


Missing Scenes

by Jenksel



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Budding Love, Canon Related, Casskins, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Missing Scene, The Librarians Shipathon 2018, some AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 05:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 46,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15942557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenksel/pseuds/Jenksel
Summary: Missing Casskins scenes throughout the run of the show that we should've gotten but did not.  Mostly from Seasons 1-3 for now.  KINDA fix-it, I guess, but I've tried to stick to canon as much as possible, except for the last 2 chapters, which went totally AU on me.





	1. The Apple of Discord

Jenkins sat quietly in his lab, his white head bent over a sheaf of papers covered with his notes regarding his latest experiment. He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't hear the soft tapping on the door.

"Mr. Jenkins?" Cassandra Cillian's timid voice broke through his concentration, and he looked up from the notes.

"Miss Cillian," he greeted her, a faint note of surprise in his voice as he stood and removed his glasses before walking over to her. "Always a pleasure; is there something I can help you with?"

The Librarian flashed an anxious smile, blue eyes wide.

"I just… I mean… What I wanted to say is…" The redhead fumbled nervously for the right words, then took a deep breath and simply blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"Mr. Jenkins, I heard what Flynn said about you being an overgrown Chicken Little and a miserable charity case, and I just wanted you to know that _I_ don't think you're _any_ of those things at all!"

Caught unawares by her outburst, the Caretaker blinked and cocked his head questioningly.

"I mean, I know you came here to get away from people and just be by yourself, because, well, people really suck sometimes—I totally get that," she hurried on, barely pausing to take a breath. "But you're definitely _not_ broken-down and you're definitely _not_ a charity case at all! I mean, after all, could a broken-down charity case invent anything like the mechanism that controls the Back Door? Because, I mean, you basically _created_ a wormhole—and not even just a _regular_ wormhole, either, which would be like, _totally_ amazing in and of itself; but you created a stable, _controllable_ wormhole, which is like… _THE_ most amazing scientific achievement _ever_! I mean, the government would give _anything_ to have that kind of technology and the person who created it!" She took a few steps closer to the befuddled man as she spoke, waving her hands animatedly in the air.

"And you know so much about magic that you're practically a wizard—at least in _my_ book. And you know so much about how magic and science are related and, even _more_ importantly, maybe, how they're _not_ related and…" Jenkins raised a hand to halt the frantic flood of words pouring out of the young woman's mouth.

"That's very kind of you, Miss Cillian," he said quietly. "I truly do appreciate your support. But you know very well that Mr. Carsen was under the influence of the Apple when he said those things; I took them with a grain a salt." Cassandra bit her lower bit and shifted her weight anxiously from one foot to the other.

"That's true," she said slowly, carefully. "But I also know that _you_ know that the Apple only brings out the worst that's already in people, so…the things Flynn said—the feelings behind them have obviously been inside of him this whole time, he just never said them out loud until the _Apple_ brought them out." Jenkins stiffened slightly, but remained silent. Cassandra tentatively reached a hand out and lightly touched his forearm.

"I just…I just wanted you to know that I've _never_ thought of you that way, Mr. Jenkins. I see how much work you do around here, and how much you love it. How much you love the Library. I just wanted you to know that… _I_ think you're brilliant, and…wise and…despite your grumpy outside, I think you're really a very nice man on the inside, and I appreciate everything you do for us every day. I'm glad I'm here with you. To _work_ , I mean…" Cassandra dropped her eyes, her pale cheeks turning pink.

Jenkins looked down at the Librarian, unable to think of anything to say in response. He'd never expected this. He understood that Flynn had been influenced by the Apple, but Cassandra was correct; it only brought to the surface feelings and ideas that were already present within someone. The Apple never caused its victims to think or feel anything foreign or incompatible with their current belief systems. Carsen's words had cut the old Caretaker more deeply that he would ever admit, because he knew that deep down inside that was _exactly_ how Mr. Carsen felt about him. To him, Jenkins _was_ just a broken-down old charity case with a tendency toward alarmism. He wouldn't be the first Librarian to have such a low opinion of the Caretaker, but Jenkins had hoped that Mr. Wilde had been the last of them. Cassandra was very clever to understand how the Apple works, and to perceive how hurtful Carsen's words were, and the immortal was touched by the young woman's compassion for him. Jenkins laid his hand on top hers, still resting on his arm, and patted it.

"Thank you, Miss Cillian," he said, his dark eyes softening a bit. "That's very kind of you. I very much appreciate your appreciation." He paused for a moment, as if debating something with himself for a moment, then gave her hand another couple of pats.

"I was just about to take a break from my work for a cup of tea; I wonder if you would you care to join me, Miss Cillian?" he asked, trying to sound disinterested but unable to keep the warmth out of his voice. Cassandra smiled up at him, her face suddenly bright as the sun, and a curious flutter went through the old immortal's chest at the sight.

“I'd love to!" she chirped happily. He removed his lab coat and slipped back into his suit jacket, then politely offered her his arm, and together the two of them headed off to the kitchen.


	2. The Hollow Men

Cassandra gathered up yet another armload of loose papers from the floor and wearily dropped them onto the long table in the middle of the Annex workroom.  With a resigned sigh she began to methodically straighten and sort the mess, quickly examining each sheet of paper before putting it into its proper stack on the table.  Her weary brain automatically began drifting back over recent events as she sorted, especially the ones involving Jenkins, not surprisingly.  It had been a shock to her to hear Jenkins confess to being an immortal, and she was bursting with questions:    How old was he, exactly?  Eve had told them after the STEM Fair that his real name was ‘Galeas’—she’d heard Morgan le Fey use it.  ‘Galeas’ was another name for ‘Galahad’, as in ‘ _Sir_ Galahad’, but was he really _that_ Galahad?  Is that why he always seemed to have that air of sadness about him?  And how had he ended up in the Library? 

Cassandra shook her head and tried to focus on the task at hand.  The Library and the Annex were left a complete mess after “Ray”, the Spirit of the Library, finally returned and reunited with the physical Library.  A few feet away from the Librarian, Jenkins was sorting and reordering a drawer of cards from the card catalog.  Cassandra glanced up at him.  He’d been rather quiet and withdrawn ever since Flynn and Ray had come back to the Annex, and Cassandra had a good idea as to why. 

“The Library loves you, too, Mr. Jenkins,” she blurted out.  She saw the Caretaker stiffen slightly, his hands freezing for a moment over a jumbled pile of cards.  He resumed his work, but said nothing, choosing to pretend that he hadn’t heard her.  Cassandra cocked her head to one side, taking a couple of tentative steps toward him.

“You’ve been here for so much longer than Flynn, after all, you’ve…dedicated so much of your life to taking care of the Library and the artifacts, to helping and protecting the Librarians and the Guardians.  You’ve sacrificed so much for it—how could it _not_ love you every bit as much as it loves Flynn?” she continued, not willing to be put off.  Jenkins paused again and straightened up, hands resting on the tabletop, his eyes still lowered.  His face betrayed nothing of what he was feeling or thinking at the moment, but at least she knew that he was listening to her now.

“It would’ve been nice to hear that directly from the Library, out loud,” he said after a moment, his voice low, carefully neutral in tone.  She saw him take a deep, quiet breath, then wave a dismissive hand, a look of disapproval settling on his features.  “But that’s nothing but ego on my part.”  He bent over again to continue his sorting. 

She watched the immortal for a few minutes, chewing her lower lip as she pondered what to do next.  Sometimes he could be harsh with her and the others, sometimes his words could be cutting and even cruel.  But she’d noticed that he was absolutely _merciless_ with himself, almost neurotically so, and she wondered what in his past could have made him that way. 

Impulsively she dropped the papers she was holding and ran around the end of the table to where Jenkins was working.  Without warning she threw her arms around him and gave him a fierce hug, burying her face in his chest, the smell of his subtle, citrusy cologne and the wool of his suit filling her nostrils. 

“You were willing to sacrifice your own life to keep the Library alive for just a little bit longer!” she said as she clung to him, tears in her voice.  “You were going to let the Library… _eat_ you!  You were going to let yourself _die_ here, all alone, in the dark, because you thought that that was your duty.  And that’s just the bravest, _saddest_ thing I’ve ever heard of!”  She let go of the startled man and backed away from him a couple of paces, her hands clutched together nervously in front of her.

“I’m…I’m sorry, Mr. Jenkins,” she said, embarrassed.  “I didn’t mean to invade your space like that or anything, but…I…I just thought you deserved a hug.  From a Librarian at least, if not the Library.”  Seeing the confused look on his face, she hurried on to explain.

“You know.  Because, I’m a Librarian, so…I kinda speak _for_ the Library.  And…I just wanted you to know that…I _know_ the Library loves you, Mr. Jenkins, even if Ray didn’t have a chance to tell you so directly.  And… _I_ love you, too.  And I would’ve been _really_ upset if you had…”  She waved her small hands in front of her, unable to say the words aloud.

The Caretaker stared the young woman in front of him, speechless.  It had been literally decades since anyone cared whether he lived or died, since anyone had touched him, let alone given him a hug.  It had felt so... _good_.  Natural.  It had taken a tremendous amount of discipline to not put his arms around the petite Librarian and return the embrace.  He’d spent ages building a high, hard wall around himself.  It was the only way he had of coping with an eternity’s worth of pain, sorrow and disappointment.  But Miss Cillian seemed to have a gift for finding the chinks in that wall. 

He was suddenly reminded of that old fairy tale, _The Beauty and the Beast_ , only instead of lovely young Belle and ugly old Beast finding redemption and happiness in true love, they were lovely young Cassandra and ugly old Jenkins...  He quickly shoved the foolish thought away and swallowed down the lump that was beginning to tickle his throat.  _You’re a fool, as well as ugly and old!_ he reprimanded himself.  Still, her words and actions were kind and heartfelt, and they lifted his spirits considerably.

“Thank you, Miss Cillian,” he replied, his voice low.  Laying his hand on his breast, he gave her a small bow.  “That…means a great deal to me.”    He dropped his glistening brown eyes back to the stacks of cards in front of him, the tiniest of smiles teasing the corners of his mouth.

“It means the world to me, actually,”  he whispered.

Without another word, he went back to work.


	3. The Apple of Discord

Jenkins could hear the celebratory laughter and music from all the way in his lab.  He cast a quick glance at the door, briefly thought about closing it against the cheerful racket, but decided not to in the end.  He had to admit it to himself that, as annoying as these young people were most of the time, it wasn’t _altogether_ unpleasant to hear such sounds again after so many years alone in the Library.  In the deafening silence.

The Caretaker shook his head, chiding himself for his wandering attention, and went back to his work.  A few seconds later he heard a light knocking.

“Miss Cillian,” he greeted in a neutral tone, not bothering to look up from his work.  “Has the party broken up already?”

“How’d you know it was me?” she asked.  Jenkins chuckled.

“I would know that tentative tapping anywhere,” he said, almost teasingly.  Cassandra smiled and entered the lab, coming to stand next to him at the worktable, her hands behind her back.

“Missed you at the party,” she said. She saw a blank expression suddenly drop over his face.

“It’s Colonel Baird’s birthday,” he replied.  “Since I was not specifically invited, I thought it best to stay out of the way.  It seemed like a good bonding opportunity for all of you, anyway.”

“But of course you were invited!” the young redhead protested in dismay.  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Jenkins—we just assumed you knew that!  It was also a Christmas party, too, you know, not just Eve’s birthday.  And we need to bond with you, too; you’re part of the team as much as anyone else is!  You should have stayed!”  Jenkins stopped working and turned to look down at the earnest, upturned face.  His brown eyes warmed a bit when he saw how upset she was.

“To be honest, Miss Cillian, I’m afraid I’m just not very good with parties anymore,” he admitted self-consciously.  “After so many years alone, my ‘people skills’ are somewhat rusty; perhaps you’ve noticed?”  Cassandra smiled at him.

“That’s okay, Mr. Jenkins, I understand,” she said sympathetically.  The Librarian then pulled her hands from behind her back.  She held out a small, flat package wrapped in bright green, shiny paper and tied up with a thin gold ribbon.  Perched on top of the package was a Christmas-themed paper plate holding a fat slice of dark cake and a plastic fork.

“I brought you some of Eve’s birthday cake!” she announced cheerfully.  “And…your Christmas present.”  Jenkins blinked in surprise, then stared at the items she was holding out to him.

“A…Christmas gift?  For me?” he asked, as if afraid to believe he had heard correctly.  “From whom?”  Cassandra giggled softly.

“From _me_ ,” she confessed shyly.  “I hope you don’t mind.  I know we’ve only been here a few weeks and we really don’t know each other very well, but…you’ve been very nice to me since I came here and…I just wanted to give you something for Christmas.  As a ‘thank you’.  For everything you’ve done for me.”

Jenkins was taken aback.  He cast about in his memory, trying to remember the last time someone had given him a Christmas gift—it had been…well… _forever_ , it seemed.

He reached out and took the offerings.  He speared a bit of the rich, sinfully gooey cake with the fork and tasted it, his eyebrows arching appreciatively.

“Mmmm!  Double-fudge chocolate?” he asked, and Cassandra’s head bobbed up and down. 

“One of my favorites!” he rumbled in a confidential tone, a sixth sense telling him that it was Cassandra who had made the cake.  The pride shining of her clear blue eyes at his words confirmed his suspicion.  He set the cake on the table for the moment and turned his attention to the gift.

“I’m very sorry that I don’t have anything for you, Miss Cillian,” he apologized.  “I wasn’t expecting to receive anything…”

“That’s okay, Mr. Jenkins,” she breezily assured him, rocking slightly on her feet.  “You don’t have to worry about that.  It’s not really a gift if you expect someone to pay you back for it, now is it?”  Jenkins couldn’t help but smile at her logic.

“Indeed,” he agreed.  She waved her hands at the gift excitedly.

“Well, what’re you waiting for?  Go ahead and open it!” 

Smiling at her enthusiasm, Jenkins removed the ribbon and then tore open the paper.  He was surprised by the eagerness he felt as he revealed a flat, gold-colored gift box.  Dropping the paper and ribbon onto the table, he carefully removed the lid and pulled away the dark green tissue paper that lined the box.  Nestled inside was a neatly-folded square of _very_ brightly-colored silk.  Jenkins removed the cloth and let it fall open as he placed the box on the table.  It was about a foot square, with a paisley pattern in shockingly bright greens and blues taking up most of the cloth, surrounded by a wide border of an eye-watering shade of vivid pink.  He recognized the brand instantly, a haberdasher’s in London known for stocking colorful, flamboyant designs, and their goods were _not_ inexpensive.  Cassandra had dropped a pretty penny on this gift—far more than he himself was willing to pay for an accessory such as this.  The Caretaker turned his astonished gaze from the garish piece of cloth to look at Cassandra, the Librarian barely able to contain her enthusiasm.

“Well?  What do you think?” she asked, almost squealing.  “It’s a pocket square!  I noticed that you like to wear a pocket square every day, and I saw this one while I was out Christmas shopping for the others and I immediately thought of you!  I tried to find a bow tie to go with it, too, but I just couldn’t find anything to match those colors that I thought you would like, but I just couldn’t pass the square up—I hope you have some ties already that’ll go with it…?”  She stood on her tip-toes as she eagerly waited for his verdict.

Jenkins’s eyes went back to the square in his hand, something she picked out _just_ for him, given out of pure generosity, kindness and friendship, and, just like that, the lurid, overpriced bit of silk became the most wonderful Christmas present he had ever received.  A wide smile brightened the man’s normally dour face, making him look years younger.  He beamed down at the wide-eyed, anxious Librarian.

“It’s beautiful, Miss Cillian—I can’t wait to wear it; thank you,” he said sincerely.  “In fact….!”  He plucked out the square he was currently wearing and stuffed it into a trousers pocket, then quickly folded his new silk into a simple shape and carefully placed it in his coat pocket, setting off a series of shrill squeals and tiny handclaps from the young woman.

“There!  How do I look?” he asked proudly, patting the new square.  Cassandra moved to stand directly in front of him and made a tiny adjustment.

“Very handsome!” she said approvingly, stepping back again.  “It goes really well with what you’re wearing right now!”  A slightly awkward silence settled between them. 

“Well, um…I guess…I’d better get back to the party now,” Cassandra said quietly.  “Anyway, Merry Christmas, Mr. Jenkins!”  The Librarian turned and started to walk away.

“Miss Cillian?” Jenkins called out suddenly.  She stopped and turned.

“Is it too late for me to…?  I mean, do you think it would be all right if I…?”  Jenkins pulled himself to his full height and took a deep breath to calm his sudden inexplicable nervousness.

“Would you permit me the honor of acting as your escort for the remainder of the evening, Miss Cillian?” he asked, falling back on the comfortable security of formality.  A wide smile lit up the young woman’s face.

“I’d like that very much, Mr. Jenkins!” she said happily.  The old Caretaker picked up the plate of cake and offered her his free arm as he drew near.  She looped hers through it, and together the pair walked back to the workroom to join the festivities.


	4. The Image of Image

“Eve?” Cassandra Cillian groaned as she ran through the workroom, her hand held loosely over her mouth.  “Tacos... Not helping!” 

The Guardian sighed sympathetically as she grabbed a large trophy to use as a barf bucket and fell in behind the scurrying Librarian.

“I'll hold your hair,” she said.  Baird started following the redhead, then pulled up short at the sound of a loud crashing sound coming from the direction of the kitchen, quickly followed by the angry voice of Jacob Stone.

“ _Godammit_ , Jones…!”  Quickly followed in turn by the derisive laughter of Ezekiel Jones.

Eve stood immobile for a few seconds, torn between the two “emergency” situations.  Suddenly she remembered Jenkins in the workroom.

“Jenkins!” she bellowed.  A few seconds later he appeared in the doorway, an expectant look on his face. 

“I need you to do me a favor!” she said as the Caretaker stopped in front of her.

“Of course, Colonel, what do you need?” he asked, noting her frazzled look with caution.

“I need you to check on Cassandra,” she said quickly, shoving the trophy into his hands and then heading off in the direction of the kitchen, where more crashing, cursing and cackling sounds could be heard. 

“She’s in the bathroom, I think!  Throwing up!”  Flummoxed, Jenkins opened his mouth to protest, but the Guardian turned and ran before he could utter a word.

His shoulders slumped as his mouth snapped shut again and his head fell back in aggravation.  He _hated_ dealing with sick people, especially hung-over drunks.  Still, he _was_ the Caretaker, and if had been _anyone_ other than Miss Cillian he would have snarkily told them to go lie in the bed they had made for themselves.  But it _was_ Miss Cillian this time, and it really wasn’t her fault she was hung over, so he turned and headed to the hall bathroom.  As he approached, he could clearly hear the sick Librarian loudly dry-heaving through the thick oak door.  He set the trophy down in the hallway and knocked, then opened the door and poked his head inside.

“Miss Cillian?  Are you all right?”  He saw her hunched over the toilet bowl, her tiny body shuddering violently as she heaved, and Jenkins felt a sudden stab of compassion for the poor woman.  He stepped inside and hurried over to Cassandra, knelt on the hard tile floor beside her.  He put a large hand on her back and began rubbing it gently through the thick terrycloth of her robe.  When she was done vomiting, Cassandra limply laid her head on her arm, gasping for air and trembling.  Jenkins reached out with his other hand and carefully moved her long red hair away from her face before it could become fouled.

“Do you feel any better now, Cassandra?” he asked softly, dropping formalities.  She shook her head slowly.

“I feel like shit, Mr. Jenkins!” she mumbled, then realized what she’d said.  “Oh!  Sorry, Mr. Jenkins, I didn’t mean to swear!”  He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“That’s perfectly understandable,” he said as he fetched her a glass of water to rinse her mouth out with.  “Remember, I’ve been around for many years; believe me, I’ve heard much, _much_ worse!”  That coaxed a weak smile from Cassandra.

“Yeah, but you never heard it from _me_ before,” she said.  With a groan she turned her face into her arm so that he couldn’t see her anymore.  “You must think I’m just a complete loser.”

“And why should I think that?” Jenkins asked, genuinely puzzled.  Cassandra snorted softly.

“I go against your wishes when Lucy Lyon was taken by the hybristic,  get all up in your face about the women of the Lake and accuse you of being cowardly and afraid of magic.  Then I let myself be charmed and tricked by Dorian Gray and get drunk and act like a fool and almost get Eve killed.  And let’s not forget my pièce de résistance, the fact that the _very first_ thing I do as a Librarian is _betray_ the Library!  Way to go, Cassandra!  Woo hoo!”  She waved her other arm limply before letting it flop back onto the toilet seat, then heaved a deep, shuddering sigh before falling silent. 

Jenkins regarded her for a moment, then brought his hand up from her back to rest lightly on the back of her head.  He tried to resist the urge, and failing that, he told himself that he meant only to comfort her.  But it was only an excuse, a poor one at that.   He’d wanted to touch her hair for a very long time.   He was fascinated by it, had been since the moment they met.  He spent long periods of time gazing surreptitiously at her long russet tresses whenever they were working together, daydreaming about what it felt like.  He may never get another chance…

Jenkins was overcome by the pleasure he felt in touching her beautiful red hair.  He was surprised at how soft and fine it was, so perfectly matched to the petite, sweet-natured, inquisitive Librarian; it felt like spun silk in his calloused fingers.  The pleasure was soon replaced with shame, however.  What sort of cad was he, to take advantage of a sick woman like this?  He abruptly pulled his hand away and returned his attention back to the matter at hand.

“I think no such thing of you, Cassandra,” he said, chiding her gently.  “You are a young, relatively inexperienced Librarian who happened to run up against an exceptionally clever, manipulative man.  And those other things you mentioned do not make you a ‘loser’, either. You stood up for what was right in regards to Miss Lyon; you and I didn’t have an argument, we had a _discussion_.  And as for your ‘betrayal’—“  The old Caretaker sighed.  “I do wish you would stop castigating yourself for that.  It’s over and done.”

“Not for Jake or Ezekiel!” she grumbled groggily.  “They still don’t trust me, ‘specially Jake!”  Jenkins leaned forward and spoke sternly to her.

“Pay no attention to Mr. Stone,” he said sternly.  “Had he been in your shoes, I daresay he would’ve done exactly the same thing!  You redeemed yourself by healing Mr. Carsen of his injuries rather than yourself.  But, as I said, it’s all in the past now; all has been forgiven, it’s time to forget it and move on.” 

Cassandra pushed herself upright and looked at the man next to her, her eyes glassy and worn. 

“Do you forgive me for betraying the Library, Mr. Jenkins?” she asked pathetically.  Jenkins immediately got to his feet and held out his hands to her.

“Of course I do,” he assured her kindly.  “And I must apologize—the last thing you need right now is a scolding!  Come along, you need rest.  There’s a surprisingly comfortable cot in the lab, you can go there and sleep all of this off undisturbed,” he said, changing the subject.  The Librarian gripped his hands and allowed him to pull her up.  He put the lid down over the toilet bowl and flushed it.  He helped her to wash her face and rinse her mouth out at the washbasin,  then encircled her waist with one long arm, half-carrying her as he slowly walked her down the hallway toward his lab.  She leaned into his side, her arms loosely wrapping themselves around his middle, soft groans sounding in her throat as she shuffled along.

When they reached the lab, the Caretaker seated her in a chair while he quickly made up the cot for her.  He helped her into the bed, robe and all, and tucked her in, leaving her a glass of water next to the cot in case she needed it during the night, gave her injured hand one last check.  He was just about to turn out the light and leave when she called out to him.

“Mr. Jenkins?”  He turned in the doorway.

“Yes, Cassandra?  Is there something else you need?”  There was a long pause.

“Can I…can I please touch your hair?” she mumbled in a small voice. 

“I beg your pardon?” asked Jenkins, taken aback by the odd request.  “You want to touch my _hair_?”

“I’m sorry!” Cassandra said quickly.  “I don’t mean to freak you out or anything, but it’s just that…I’ve been wondering all evening—ever since you showed up at the club—what your hair feels like, and…and if I don’t ask now while I’m still half-drunk and have an excuse to ask, I know I’ll _never_ have the nerve to ask again when I’m sober!” 

Jenkins considered for a moment.  He had allowed himself to steal a touch of _her_ hair just a few minutes ago; turnabout was only fair play.  He walked back to the cot and knelt down on the floor.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he offered, his voice full of mock seriousness.  “I’ll let you touch my hair, but _only_ if you promise to stop being so hard on yourself for what happened with the Serpent Brotherhood—no more self-recrimination!  Do we have a deal?”  Cassandra smiled wanly up at him and nodded her head.

“Deal!”

“Very well, then,” Jenkins rumbled, and lowered his head.  Cassandra reached up and lightly ran her fingers through his silver-white mane several times.

“It’s so soft!” she whispered in wonder.  “I thought it would be kinda coarse or stiff, but it’s like rabbit fur!”  She giggled giddily as she continued to gently comb through his hair, her fingers brushing his scalp, making it tingle unexpectedly.  Making _other_ places tingle unexpectedly.  Jenkins quickly put his hand over hers and lifted his head out of reach.

“You need rest now, Miss Cillian,” he said, his voice tinged with uneasiness.  He let go of her hand and got to his feet.  “I hope your curiosity has been satisfied?”  No answer came, and Jenkins realized that she was asleep.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he strode quickly to the door of the lab and reached out to turn off the lights.  He paused for a moment and turned back to look at the peacefully sleeping Librarian, his scalp still tingling where she had touched him.  Even though she was hung over and not at her best, she still looked lovely.

The immortal brusquely forced himself to look away from Cassandra.  He snapped off the lights and exited the lab, taking care to close the door quietly.  He turned and headed for his rooms, his long legs eating up the distance in a matter of minutes.  Once inside, he stripped off the rest of his clubbing outfit and put on pair of pajamas and his dressing gown.  He poured himself a stiff drink and dropped into his favorite armchair, picked up the book he had been reading and turned to the bookmark.  He sipped his drink, staring hard at the page, reading the same sentence over and over.  He refused to allow himself to think about Cassandra any more, but he couldn’t stop feeling her small fingers brushing against his scalp, running through his hair, no matter how hard he tried.


	5. The Infernal Contract

“Are you enjoying the champagne?” the demon asked in a bored tone.  Jenkins set his glass down and met its gaze.

“'84 was a good year,” he replied with equal blandness.  Sesselman raised his glass and looked at it disapprovingly.

“Well, I find that _everything_ after the 1756 Dom Perignon disappoints,” he said.

“Ah, precocious little grape,” commented the Caretaker.  He hated these stupid little games, but they were necessary sometimes. 

“You're something of a legend in my profession,” the demon continued, suddenly serious.  “’The Incorruptible Knight’. Allegedly…”  He gave Jenkins an almost longing look.  “What I wouldn't give in exchange for _your_ autograph!”   

“I would like to say it's a pleasure, Mr. Sesselman, but I think we both know that is _not_ the case,” the knight said, barely able to disguise the disgust in his low voice.  Sesselman smiled.

“You prefer the adversarial approach. Well, so do I!  Keeps negotiations fresh.”  He adjusted his position at the table.  “How are your friends doing? You think they found that contract yet?”

“Pardon me?” Jenkins put on a confused expression.  “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Plausible deniability,” murmured Sesselman, sounding almost disappointed.  “Still, in the interest of full disclosure, you should know that the contract will protect itself from being discovered. The closer your friends get, the more their luck will turn against them.”

“Is that what happened to Miss Vargas, the intern?” demanded Jenkins, his dark eyes boring into the loathsome creature in front of him.  The old knight had a particular hatred for demons.

“Oh, well, I can neither confirm nor deny my culpability in that rather unfortunate series of coincidences,” Sesselman said, waving a dismissive hand before returning the Caretaker’s glare with a pointed look of his own.  “But let's just say that it would be a shame if it were to happen again…”

“Well, these aren't interns. These are _Librarians_.”  It was all Jenkins could do to hold himself back from wrapping his long fingers around the demon’s neck and at least attempting to choke the life out of it.  Sesselman looked amused.

“Librarians?”  He turned his head slightly toward where the three young people had gathered across the room, talking heatedly among themselves.   “Oh. Well, it seems your Librarians are about to be caught _in flagrante delicto_.”  Jenkins turned to look as well.

 “That's legalese for ‘red-handed’, stated the demon pedantically.  “Literally, it means ‘in blazing offense’.  I _love_ the term— _in flagrante delicto_.”  He pronounced the Latin words with relish, enjoying the sight of Jenkins’s face as it took on an expression of dismay, the team’s plans seeming to fall apart before him.

“I can give her to you, you know,” the demon said casually, taking a sip of his champagne.  Jenkins turned his attention back to it, his face now registering startled guilt.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” Sesselman chided the knight.  “I know what _everyone_ wants—their deepest, darkest, most closely-guarded secret desires are no secret to my kind.”  He nodded slightly at Cassandra.

“I know you want her.  Perhaps even more clearly than you know it yourself.”  He took another sip of his drink.  “My compliments on your taste in women, by the way.”

Jenkins stared at Sesselman for a few seconds, then dropped his gaze.

“She’s merely another Librarian, I have no interest in her beyond that,” he lied, forcing a smile to his face as he tried to sound indifferent, but the demon snorted with contempt.

“You’re a very poor liar, Galahad!” he smirked, then leaned forward, his eyes blazing with urgency.

“You want her; I can give her to you,” he repeated, his voice suddenly low and seductive, like a hypnotist’s.  “ _And_ , I can make her _immortal_!  Just imagine it:  You and Cassandra Cillian—yes, yes, I know who she is!—the two of you together, _forever_!  That silly ‘oath’ you made to Charlene?  _Bah_!  Not worth the paper it’s written on, so to speak.  You can marry Cassandra, have a family if you like, quite literally live happily ever after!  She’ll be forever young and beautiful, and she’ll be forever _yours_ , Galahad!”  The devil paused to let all of that sink in, waiting to make sure the knight clearly heard what was next. 

“You never need be lonely ever again!” Sessleman whispered, driving the blade home.  “You’ll _always_ have Cassandra by your side.  She will _love_ you, Galahad— _you_!  You who are the most _unlovable_ creature God ever created to walk upon this earth!  _She will love you!_   She’ll be the last thing you see at night before falling asleep and the first thing you see when you wake up again.  Can you feel her arms around you, Galahad?  Feel her lips on yours?  Feel her hands on your body and yours on hers?  Feel her warm, soft, scented skin against your own, ugly and hideously scarred, as you make love to her, hear her calling _your_ name tenderly as passion overwhelms her…?”  The demon fell silent, greatly pleased with his work.

Jenkins stared at Sesselman, his eyes large and glassy, like an animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.  He knew how clever demons could be, how they twisted a person’s most heartfelt longings into the very snare that traps the victim and destroys them.  It was one of the reasons he hated demons so much.  But this was the first time he had ever been tempted by one directly, and he realized with horror that that was only because he’d never had a weakness that a demon could exploit.  Until now.

Cassandra. 

The knight numbly recalled how beautiful she had looked this morning in that form-fitting dress, the way she had cuddled up to him in the Rolls as they drove to the hotel, her sweet, floral perfume filling his nose and making him dizzy.  The look of sheer joy and adoration she had given him as they got out of the car as he’d seized her hand to place it through his arm.  It wasn’t _all_ just part of their act, he had to confess.  Over the last few months he thought he had caught her flirting with him, but he had dismissed that foolishness on his part.  How could she possibly be flirting with _him_?  He was merely mistaking kindness for attraction.  No woman, certainly not a lovely, intelligent young woman such as Cassandra, could be attracted to him.

He could still feel her hand on his body, the thrill he had felt when she had playfully slapped his ass just few minutes ago… 

And now the demon was offering to make it possible for them to be together, to _guarantee_ it.  _Forever_.  And all it would cost him was his soul.  His dark, sinful, despair-filled, misbegotten soul.  And right now he felt even more sinful and misbegotten, because he was actually tempted to take the demon’s deal.  His worthless, wretched soul for a lifetime of happiness with someone like Cassandra?  That would truly be bargain, indeed!

“So what do you say, Sir Galahad?” asked Sesselman quietly.  He reached into his coat and removed a scroll of parchment, careful spread it out in the tabletop.  “Do we have a deal?”

Jenkins stared blankly at the document.  All it would take is a signature.  Eternity in Hell, after an eternity with Cassandra?  She would be well-worth the price!  He reached automatically into his own coat for a pen.  His fingers instead touched silk—the brightly-colored pocket square Cassandra had given him for Christmas last year.  An unexpected gift, given out of pure generosity, pure love.  Suddenly the haze in his mind evaporated like morning fog in the sun.

He glared at the demon across from him, cold hatred sparking in his brown eyes.  He shoved the contract back at the creature.

“No!” he hissed, rising to his feet and towering over Sesselman.  “We do _not_ have a deal!  I would rather live alone and despised by all until Doomsday than to besmirch with your filth any of the kindnesses and love that I have received freely from Cassandra!  Begone, foul demon, back into the black pit out of which you oozed!” 

Sesselman glared back, furious at having lost such a juicy prize.  His eyes briefly glowed red as coals, then turned back to normal.  He snatched the parchment up and shoved it back into his coat.

“Fool!” he spat.  “She’ll be the one to pay for your so-called purity, knight!  I’ll destroy her!  I’ll destroy _all_ of them!”

“You can certainly _try_ ,” sneered the immortal.  “But know this, demon:  You’ll have to get through _me_ , first, and I guarantee that you’ll find me _far more_ difficult to destroy than most.  I don’t normally like to brag, but if you doubt my word, simply ask your Master.  He’ll be happy to tell you how many thrones in Hell have fallen vacant over the centuries because of me.” 

Jenkins then turned his back on the infuriated devil and quickly walked away to find Colonel Baird.  Things had just become considerably more complicated, thanks to him, but for the first time in a _very_ long time, he once again truly felt like Galahad, the Incorruptible Knight of Virtue.


	6. The Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

Jenkins didn’t want to see Cirque de Soleil.  He’d been worried sick about Colonel Baird and the others from the second he realized that they up against a Reaper.  Now he wanted to laugh.  He wanted laugh _hard_ , so hard that tears came, his sides hurt, his jaw ached and there was a very real danger of peeing his pants.

Jenkins wanted to see Carrot Top.  He _loved_ Carrot Top.  Carrot Top never failed to make Jenkins laugh until he was gasping for air, though he would be hard-pressed to explain why.  He simply liked the comic and his quirky, silly, jester-like humor.

So when the others finished their drinks and stood up from the restaurant booth, they all decided to go catch the latest Cirque show.  The stubborn immortal, however, went against the crowd, as usual, and declared he was going to go see Carrot Top.  After a good deal of teasing and cajoling to change his mind and join them instead, Jenkins remained determined.

“I’ll see you all back at the Annex later,” he answered briskly, and lumbered away.

He was now seated in the Atrium Theater of the Luxor, waiting for the show to begin.  It was a good-sized audience, almost a full house, but not nearly as packed as he knew that the Cirque show would be.  That was all right with Jenkins.  He always preferred quieter surroundings for the most part.

“Hey, you!” a chipper voice sounded on his right.  He turned his head just in time to see Cassandra plop down in the seat next to his.  “Looks like I got here just in time!  It’s starting to fill up in here!”

“Cassandra, what are you doing here?” he asked, perplexed.  “I thought you wanted to see the Soleil show?  ‘Let your synesthetic mind lose itself in the awesome physics of it all’, I believe you said?”  The Librarians smiled shyly and dropped her eyes to the armrest between them.

“I decided it would be more fun to spend some time with you,” she said, then looked up at him.  “I realized that I’ve never seen you laugh, and I’d like to see that.”  A small smile came to the old Caretaker’s face, his brown eyes twinkling as he reached out and patted her forearm.

“I think you may be getting far more than you’ve bargained for, then, my dear,” he rumbled.  “I find Mr. Top to be especially humorous!”  The redhead grinned and she settled into her seat.

“Oh!” she whispered suddenly, slipping her hand into the pocket of her skirt.  She surreptitiously pulled out a small plastic bag full of multi-colored candies.  Looking around furtively to make sure no one could see her, she held it out to the wondering immortal.

“Jelly beans?” she offered.  “I snuck them in!  They’re really good; every color is a different flavor— _and_ it turns out they do _plenty_ for the synesthetic mind too, but for a lot less money!”  Chortling softly, Jenkins reached into the bag and took a few of the candies.  He popped one into his mouth and bit into it, the taste of tart green apple pleasantly flooded his tongue.  He gave her a thoughtful, sidelong look.

“Do you know what this makes me want to do?” he asked, tapping his chin thoughtfully with the fingers of one hand.

“What?”

“It makes me want to go ‘Mmmmmmm’!” 

Cassandra burst into laughter at the silly joke.  “You’re such a dork!” she said.  Jenkins assumed an offended, imperious look.

“And who is the bigger dork, Miss Cillian?  The dork telling the joke, or the dork who _laughs_ at it?” 

“Hey!”  Pretending to be angry, she lightly punched his arm.

“Oww!” he mocked howled, making a show of rubbing his “injured” arm.  As the house lights began to dim for the show, she scooted in her seat and leaned over so that their shoulders touched.  Jenkins found himself mimicking her, and he almost corrected himself.  Instead, he decided to allow himself the pleasure of feeling another person’s touch, even if only through their shoulders. 

Surely there was nothing improper in that?


	7. The Tears of a Clown

“All right, here,” Jenkins said urgently, handing his smoking cup of “poor man’s smelling salts” over to Eve Baird.  “I'll retrieve Miss Cillian. You awake the others.”

While Eve and her “twin” helped Jacob Stone and Ezekiel Jones recover their wits, Jenkins hurried over to Cassandra.  He paused, momentarily mesmerized by what he saw before him:  The redhead was perched on a fake rock, her deep sea-blue eyes gazing dreamily off into the distance, transmogrified into a mermaid—a most seductive, sultry mermaid, and the Caretaker was utterly enthralled.

The reddish-gold scales of her fishtail shimmered like diamonds as she gracefully flicked it to and fro.  Her long, softly curling hair was festooned with tiny gold ornaments shaped like sea shells and sea horses.  Her top half, her _human_ half… 

Jenkins tried hard to pull his eyes away from the flawless, porcelain skin lightly kissed with pale freckles, her long, graceful arms, that swanlike neck.  The immortal’s eyes locked onto the mermaid’s chest, at the sea shells that barely concealed Cassandra’s full breasts.  He stared at them helplessly for a few seconds.  They were so close, he could just reach out and...  He suddenly caught himself, shook his head as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

_It’s only the enchantment spell cast by mermaids_ , he thought, silently scolding himself for gawking at the stricken Librarian, like some foolish, pubescent schoolboy.  By then, Eve had finished restoring the boys and handed the foul smelling salts over to the Caretaker.  He stepped forward to hold the cup under Cassandra’s nose while the others peeked out of the tent to determine the quickest escape route.

The young woman began to cough and gasp as the fumes took effect.  She blinked several times, then looked up at Jenkins with surprise.  She opened her mouth to say something to him, but all that came out was a series of dolphin-like high-pitched squeals and clicks.  Shocked, she immediately clapped both of her hands over her mouth, her eyes as big as saucers as she stared up into the Caretaker’s face.

“It’s all right, Cassandra,” he said calmly, but on the inside he was feeling a level of unease he hadn’t experienced in a long time.  “You’re under a transmogrification spell of some sort.  As soon as we get you all back to the Library, we’ll find a way to reverse it.  If you‘ll just raise your arms, I’ll…er…carry you…”  Instead of raising her arms, though, she pointed frantically in the direction of the backstage area, shrilly whining as she tried to communicate with him.  Jenkins turned and hurried to the place she was pointing at and found a wheelbarrow.  He heaved a sigh of relief; he wasn’t sure if he could carry her all the way back to the Annex’s back door, not as a mermaid.  Not with that soft, naked skin against him, those lovely, enticing breasts right beneath his nose, jiggling and bouncing as they ran.  He suddenly felt a warm twinging in his groin.

He irritably shoved the thoughts away and roughly pushed the wheelbarrow to the stage.  He carefully lifted Cassandra and laid her gently into the clumsy conveyance.  Even that brief touching of her body against his burned through the fabric of his clothes like a hot iron, and Jenkins felt lightheaded.  He felt his heart pounding within his chest and realized his breathing was coming in short, rapid gasps.  By then Jake, Ezekiel and Eve were back at the stage, and to the old Caretaker’s immense relief, Jake instantly hurried over to help him by taking the handles of the wheelbarrow and lifting it up, ready to move.

As the team rushed through the carnival grounds, Jenkins couldn’t stop himself from trying to be as close to Cassandra as possible.  He ran alongside the wheelbarrow, in a prime location to get a good, clear view of the young woman.  He was again mesmerized by her delicate beauty, the innocence she radiated, her charm.  And those _luscious_ , shell-clad breasts.  He desperately tried to distract himself by looking around the carnival grounds for the evil clowns, explaining their situation to the others and answering questions as they ran.  But he simply couldn’t take his eyes completely off of Cassandra or those breasts, now sinfully, deliciously shimmying as the wheelbarrow went over rougher ground.  He was both horrified and delighted to see that one of those tantalizing mounds of flesh was slowly working its way free of its scallop shell.  Unbidden, an image of him gently kissing that naughty breast came to mind, his tongue tasting the silky, tender skin, teasing its rosy-pink nipple into a hard, captivating bud...

Jenkins was positively mortified when he felt the warm tingling in his groin flared into lust as his manhood eagerly responded to that forbidden fantasy.  Ashamed and disgusted with himself for his total lack of self-discipline, he tore his eyes away from the entrancing view to concentrate on their escape, but it was far too little, too late.  The damage was done.

They finally burst through the door and back into the Annex.  Jenkins found himself standing directly in front of Mermaid Cassandra.  The Librarians and their Guardian instantly reverted back to their true forms, and now, instead of being tempted by her full, abundant breasts, the immortal found himself tempted by the Librarian’s long, slim, bare legs.  His wicked eyes slid up their length until they reached a quick, tantalizing peek of the turquoise panties beneath her tiny red skirt. 

“Well!  Good!” Jenkins said a little _too_ enthusiastically.  “Away from the influence of the pervasive magic of the carnival, you're transmutations have reversed!”  He hoped and prayed that his suit jacket was long enough to disguise the erection pressing insistently against the front of his trousers.

He took an awkward look around the group, duty-bound to make sure that they were all unharmed.  Cassandra, who was still reclined in the wheelbarrow and looking her lower half over, suddenly looked up into his eyes. While the others chattered excitedly, she gave Jenkins a tiny smile, then let her eyes drop and fixed them pointedly on his crotch for a second.  He felt his face blanch as he realized that Cassandra _knew_.  She flicked her eyes up again to gaze boldly into his humiliated brown eyes.  Still smiling secretly at him, the Librarian gave him a playful wink.

“My feet are back!” she yelled, drawing the attention of the others fully onto herself and thus away from Jenkins and his embarrassing predicament.  “And my voice! And I'm talking really loud!”

Grateful beyond measure for her understanding and compassion, the discombobulated Caretaker turned and beat a hasty retreat.


	8. The Curse of Cindy

“I believe _that_ should be stored in the new wing for modern artifacts,” Jenkins declared, glaring disdainfully at the jar full of Cindy’s troublesome potion balanced in Cassandra’s hand.  She smiled brightly up at him.

“Exactly where I was about to take it!” she answered perkily. 

“Ah!  May I?” the old Caretaker offered her his arm, and she gladly slipped her free hand through it.

“Of course!” she said, ignoring the knowing smirk on Ezekiel’s face. 

“The start of a new love potion wing...” mused Jenkins as he walked her out of the workroom, then down the corridor that led to the new Modern Artifacts Wing.  When they were clear of the workroom and she was sure to be out of earshot of the others, Cassandra cleared her throat.

“Are you sure you want to be alone with me, Mr. Jenkins?” she asked slyly.  “I mean, after that mermaid incident and everything...”  Jenkins halted in his tracks and turned to stare at her, aghast.

“You remember that?” he asked, his face paling.  He dropped his eyes to the floor in shame.

“I’ve been wanting to thank you for your...um... _discretion_ , Miss Cillian.  But you seemed to have lost all memory of that unfortunate incident, so I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie, as they say,” he said, the words coming in a rush, voice low and apprehensive.  “And I want to apologize, too, for my ungentlemanly behavior.  That was absolutely inexcusable...”  Cassandra held up her free hand to stop him saying anything else.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Jenkins,” she said kindly.  “You didn’t do anything wrong.  We’re both adults, we both know how biology works.  But I knew that the guys would tease you _mercilessly_ if they knew that you’d been... ‘stimulated’...by what you saw.”  The Caretaker’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink, and try as he might, he couldn’t look her in the eye.

“That’s very gracious of you,” he murmured.  “And I just want you to know that I don’t normally think about you like... _that_ ; I have nothing but the greatest respect for you, I assure you!”  Cassandra burst into soft giggles.  He glanced up, perplexed.

“Your courtly manners can’t save you now, Mr. Jenkins!” she teased gently.  “I know the truth about how you feel about me!”  Jenkins looked as though he was going to be sick, and the Librarian immediately regretted the jibe.  Jenkins could be _so_ sensitive where propriety was concerned!

“I’m sorry, Jenkins!” she said contritely.  “That was mean of me; I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.  But honestly, I’m not offended, I’m not upset with you at all.  As a very wise man once told me:  It happened, it’s in the past now.  Time to move on!”  Jenkins smiled as he recognized his own words.

“Very sound advice, indeed,” he said.  “Thank you, Cassandra.”  Smiling, she hooked her arm through his again and they continued on to the Modern Artifacts Wing.

They entered the cavernous chamber, lined with thousands of feet of bare steel shelving, their footsteps echoing as they carried the large jar of potion to a nearby shelf.  Jenkins gingerly took the artifact from the Librarian and set it on a shelf amongst a scattering of other modern artifacts the Librarians had recently acquired.  Jenkins turned to leave, but Cassandra stayed rooted to the floor, staring thoughtfully at the love potion and Kirby’s flower, sitting next to it on the shelf.

“Is there something wrong, Cassandra?” he asked with concern when he realized that she wasn’t moving to follow him out.  Melancholy overtook the young woman’s features.

“It’s so sad to think that a person can feel _so_ lonely, _so_ unloved and unwanted that they think they have to resort to magic to _make_ people love them,” she answered.  She glanced briefly up at the immortal, quickly dropped her eyes again.

“I kinda know how that feels,” she murmured, Jenkins barely able to hear her.  He was struck to the marrow of his ancient bones by the utterly forlorn look on the Librarian’s face, and he understood that she did indeed know what it felt like to feel so incredibly lonely.  It was a feeling that he, too, knew very well. 

Jenkins went back to her and, without stopping to think or second-guess himself, he quickly placed his long fingers under her chin and tipped her face up.  At the same time he lowered his head and gave her a brief, chaste kiss, barely brushing her soft, warm lips with his own.  The startled woman stared at him, wide-eyed; it only made her look even more vulnerable and sad.

Jenkins couldn’t stop himself; he wrapped his arms around Cassandra and held her small body close.  The shocked Librarian could hear the tall man’s heart thundering within his chest, could smell the dizzying scent of his skin and cologne as she weakly encircled her arms around his waist.  She hardly dared to breathe, afraid of breaking whatever spell had suddenly fallen over the Caretaker.

“I can _certainly_ assure you, Cassandra, that you will _never_ need magic to feel loved so long as _I_ draw breath,” he said, one hand moving up her warm, trembling body to cradle the back of her head, to touch her soft, silky hair.  She smelled so sweet, like honey and apricots...

Suddenly Jenkins realized what he was doing, what he was saying, and he instantly released Cassandra and stepped away from her, almost roughly.  He began to frantically adjusting his clothes, tugging on his sleeves nervously and dropping his gaze again while an uncomfortable expression overtook his face.

“I very much doubt that as long as the _others_ live, you will ever have to resort to magic in order to feel loved,” he blurted hurriedly, desperately trying to backpedal.  His pale cheeks turned crimson as he spoke.  Cassandra stepped forward and took the discomfited man’s fidgeting hands in hers, smiling.  She knew he was embarrassed now, knew that he felt he had overstepped some boundary or other.  But she felt positively giddy right now, thrilled that he had kissed her.  And there was no escaping the fact that, virginal as it was, he _had_ kissed her!

“Thank you, Mr. Jenkins,” she whispered, intoxicated by his unexpected show of outright affection, but aware that she couldn’t overreact lest it frighten him off completely. She impulsively stood on tip-toes and kissed his cheek, on the spot right at the corner of his mouth, indirectly returning his kiss.  A bashful, tiny smile came his lips as his cheeks.  He lifted a hand to briefly touch the spot she had just kissed, and turned an even deeper shade of red.

“Yes, well,” he stumbled, forcing his hand down.  “I...I think it’s time for a cup of tea before we start working on the reports for our latest acquisition, don’t you?”  He timidly held out his arm, and she slipped hers through it, then the two of them headed off to the kitchen.

It did not escape Cassandra’s notice that Jenkins didn’t even try to apologize for what had just happened between them.


	9. The Eternal Question

Jenkins flipped idly through a six-month old “People” magazine, utterly bewildered by all of the pictures of impossibly young and even more impossibly beautiful people.  Who _were_ they, and what on earth had they done to garner so much attention, except, apparently, to dress in increasingly scandalous outfits, spend obscene amounts of money and try to outdo each other in outrageous behaviors?  The immortal shook his head and tossed the magazine aside.  _The more things change, the more they stay the same_ , he thought jadedly.  Memories of the Seventeenth Century court of the Sun King, Louis XIV of France, suddenly surfaced.  Much the same thing happened there—lavish parties every night where bored, rich youths tried to outdo one another in obtaining the most expensive clothing, the most elaborate hairstyles, richest foods and wines, engaging in romantic liaisons at the drop of a handkerchief.  He smiled wryly to himself.  Those were _definitely_ some days!

A faint groaning suddenly pulled him back from his reverie.  He shot up out of the chair and went quickly to the side of the hospital bed, leaned over it.

“Cassandra?” he said softly, his voice still slightly anxious even though they had all been assured that she would make a full recovery from the surgery.  He still remembered the punch-to-the-gut feeling he’d had when he found Dr. Nassir’s business card on the Annex floor and realized why Cassandra had actually gone to New York.  He still remembered how he felt that day in the neurosurgeon’s office as the man explained the experimental surgery that was the Librarian’s only hope for survival.  He still remembered that awful, numbing fear as he gaped at the scans of Cassandra’s brain, the malignant tumor sitting in her skull like a fat spider.  He could still hear those terrible words, implacable as a sentence of execution.

_‘Cassandra has no time left, Mr. Jenkins.  She either has the surgery, now, or she will die within the next few days’.  _

There had been so much he wanted to say to her before they took her away.  But there was only time for a short, generic statement of the love he felt for her.  Propriety wouldn’t allow him to say any more, even at that dire moment.  Propriety, and fear.  Fear of opening himself up again to another, allowing himself to feel love, to give love.  He could still feel her thin arm and trembling hand slide through his fingers as they took her away, he powerless to help her.  The interminable waiting.  The gnawing fear that he would never see her again, a fear more powerful than any he had felt before going into battle.  He hadn’t prayed in years, but that night Jenkins prayed as though his own life depended on it.

Before he even knew what he was doing, Jenkins now reached out his hand and laid it tenderly against her cool, too-pale cheek.

“Cassandra?” he called again.  This time he was rewarded with the sight of her clear blue eyes, a little glassy right now, peering confusedly up at him.  As soon as she recognized the tall man, a faint smile came to her lips.

“Hey, you!” she said weakly.  “How long have you been here?”  Jenkins then realized his hand was on her face, and he quickly removed it.  He picked up her hand, instead, and gave it a little squeeze.

“Not long,” he lied.  He’d actually been there for hours.  In fact, he spent as much time as he possibly could at her bedside as she recovered from the surgery.  She was asleep most of the time, drifting in and out of consciousness and lucidity, but he didn’t care.  He just couldn’t stand the thought of her being in the hospital alone for any length of time; she’d had enough of that as a child.  He even sneaked into the hospital at night to sit by her side well after visiting hours, under cover of the ridiculous- looking Cap of Invisibility.  He chalked his fixation up to guilt; he didn’t dare let himself think that might be motivated by anything else.  It was guilt—for refusing her request for a date during what might’ve been her last night on earth.  Guilt for not picking up on her symptoms sooner.  Guilt for “leading her on” romantically, however unintentional on his part.  Guilt for allowing himself to become so close to her emotionally.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, and she wrinkled her nose.

“Like an elephant stepped on my head.”  He patted her hand reassuringly.

“That’s to be expected,” he said.  “Are you hungry?  Or thirsty?  I’m more than happy to bring you something.  Are you in any pain?  Shall I call a nurse for you?”  There was a tiny shake of her bandaged head.

“No, I’m okay, thanks,” she said.  Suddenly she took hold of his hand, holding onto it with surprising strength.

“I haven’t thanked you yet for saving me,” she said, looking him hard in the eyes.  “If it hadn’t been for you…”

“It was nothing,” he protested gently, unable to look her in the eye.

“Yes, it was!” she replied.  “I would probably be dead right now if not for you.”  Jenkins flinched inwardly at the word “dead”.  Cassandra looked down for a moment, nervously swallowing hard before looking up again.

“I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that in the lab.  When I asked you out.  And I’m sorry for yelling at you and accusing you of being a coward.  I…I was just thinking of myself then.  That I had so little time left and so much that I still wanted to do.  Still so much living.”  Tears filled her eyes and slipped from their corners.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Cassandra,” Jenkins said quickly, his heart pounding.  “I’m so very sorry that I didn’t understand how sick you actually were, that I didn’t see the signs or even ask how you were doing.  That’s _inexcusable_ in someone who calls himself a caretaker.”  He paused for a moment, uneasy.

“I want you to understand something, Cassandra,” he said quietly, fervently.  “I _do_ care for you very much.  And I meant what I said to you before the surgery, I…I _do_ love you, _very_ much.”

“But just as a friend,” she stated flatly, trying hard to keep her emotions out of her voice.

From deep within the immortal, something screamed like a wounded beast, screamed for him to tell her that he loved her as _more_ than a friend— _much_ more.  He shoved it away, though, the usual objection rising up and coming to his rescue.

“A knight…cannot break an oath,” he whispered, his face the very image of stoic misery.  He immediately began reciting to himself his litany of self-justification as he watched the tears pool in her sad, blue eyes and fall:  He had already sworn himself to Charlene.  He was far too old for Cassandra.  She would end up being yet another loved one that he would outlive and bury one day.  She simply deserved so much better than a broken down old charity case.

Before the surgery these reasons had been perfectly plausible, even sensible, but they all rang hollow now.  They were nothing more than comfortable excuses.  They were nothing more than cowardice.  The Librarian looked steadily into Jenkins’s eyes, could see plainly that he was lying, trying to convince himself as much as anyone else that he wasn’t _in_ love with her, that he _couldn’t_ be in love with her.  But right now she was just too damn tired and in too much pain to fight for him.

“That’s okay, Mr. Jenkins,” she said, smiling weakly, unconvincingly.  “I understand.”  She closed her eyes and let go of his hand.

“I’m feeling awfully tired, now, Mr. Jenkins,” she said softly, then opened her eyes again to look at him.  “I think I need to be alone now.  I need to get some sleep.” The quiet dismissal struck him like a hammer-blow.

“Of course,” he whispered, his brown eyes full of pain.  The immortal brushed her hand with trembling fingers, and then he turned and quickly left the room.

As soon as each one was alone, they both wept bitterly.


	10. The Fatal Separation

“Good-bye, Galahad,” said Charlene, loudly enough for only him to hear. She looked into his eyes sadly, regretfully, with unspoken apology,

“Good-bye, my love,” he responded simply, tenderly, returning her gaze with one full of his own regret and sadness.

They raised their hands but did not touch each other. A brief flash of light, and she was gone, forever.

Jenkins lowered his hands to his sides and turned away from the mirror to face the others. Eve was trying to comfort a distraught Flynn. Cassandra was sniffling, close to breaking down completely, and both Ezekiel and Jacob, fighting back their own tears, moved to console her. Oblivious to everything now except their own grief, no one took notice of the Caretaker as he silently strode past them and out of the room, his face a mask of impassive stoicism.

He walked through the corridors of the Library purposefully, forcing his dazed mind to remain blank. His left cheek burned where she had kissed him.

He entered his rooms and slowly closed the door behind him. After quietly locking it he removed the stole from around his neck and draped it carefully over the bed. He removed his suit coat and his tie and neatly hung them both in the closet.

He unfastened the top few buttons of his shirt as he moved to the armchair and sat down heavily. He was motionless for several minutes as the reality of what just happened fully sank into him.

Only then did he permit himself to reach a hand up to his burning cheek. Only then did he allow himself to feel the awful, crushing pain in his chest, the suffocating knot in his throat. Only then did he allow the tears to well and fall his from his eyes.

Only then did he allow himself to bury his face in hands and sob uncontrollably for his lost love.

Outside in the hallway, Cassandra stood frozen on the other side of his door, her hand raised to knock.  She could hear Jenkins weeping, his heart broken, and the hand that the Librarian had raised to knock on the door now moved to cover her mouth, to smother her own sobs as her heart broke for him. 

 

* * *

 

Two weeks after Charlene crossed over to the other side of the mirror, Cassandra took a deep breath and made a cup of Assam tea.  When it was ready, she mentally and emotionally steeled herself in preparation before going in search of Jenkins.  The pair had already been walking on eggshells around each other ever since her release from the hospital, neither one bringing up the topic that caused them both so much pain and, now, anxiety.  Now, since Charlene’s departure, things had only gone from bad to worse.  On the outside, little appeared to have changed; Jenkins was still solicitous and polite and proper—oh, _so_ proper.  And Cassandra was still chipper and helpful when she was around him.  But things had definitely changed between them.  The entire team could feel it now.

Cassandra had tried to get the old Caretaker to talk about his loss, but of course he refused, angrily protesting that he was fine, _everything_ was fine, do stop fussing!  She had been shocked to learn that the First Guardian had been Jenkins’s ‘true love’, the one he’d sworn his heart to for all eternity.  How could that be, considering Charlene clearly had _no_ interest in Jenkins whatsoever.  She’d even been married at one point to someone named Gaston.  When that marriage ended in divorce she still ignored Jenkins completely, clearly preferring Judson.  She didn’t even let the Caretaker say what was in his heart on the day she passed through the mirror; she brusquely cut him off, leaving the poor man to stand there, stone-faced and suffering in silence, while she went around saying her farewells to everyone else.  _Why_ was Jenkins so attached to her?  Cassandra sighed and shook her head as she picked up the hot drink and headed out into the corridor.

By the time she found him, the tea was cold.  He was in the Ancient History section of the stacks, seated in an armchair and staring off into the distance, a book on the history of the Library of Alexandria lying forgotten in his lap.  Cassandra could see the book was open to a page showing a picture of a very young Charlene.

“Mr. Jenkins?” she said quietly so as not to startle him.  He didn’t hear her.

“Mr. Jenkins?” she said again, louder this time.  The pale and exhausted-looking Caretaker slowly turned his head and blinked at her vacantly for a couple of seconds before he finally recognized her.

“Miss Cillian?” he replied thinly, then quickly recovered himself, closing the book quickly before standing up.  “Miss Cillian—I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in!  Is there something you need help with?”  She held out the cup and saucer.

“No.  I just thought you might like a cup of tea, though it’s more like iced tea now.  And some company,” she said, eyes full of sympathy.  Jenkins dropped the book into the chair and began fussing with his clothes.

“That’s very kind of you, Miss Cillian,” he said stiffly.  “I always appreciate a good cup of tea, even the iced variety.”  He stopped straightening his coat and took the tea from her outstretched hands.

“And normally I would welcome your company, but I think _this_ time your motivation is misplaced,” he finished testily.  The Librarian sighed quietly to herself.  Why was he being so damn stubborn?  Between the tension-filled days since her release from the hospital, the tension-filled days since Charlene passed, and her own personal grief over losing Charlene, the Librarian was far too tired and emotionally drained to play these stupid games with him.

“Okay, look,” she said, wearily and with no little irritation of her own.  “I’m getting sick and tired of all this tip-toeing around you crap.  I _know_ how much Charlene meant to you.  We all accidentally overheard you talking to her just before she passed into the mirror.  As much as _I’m_ hurting right now, I _know_ that you’re hurting a million times worse, because I heard you crying in your bedroom that night!  I just wanted to give you a shoulder to cry on if you needed it, but _apparently_ I was wrong, because you’re just this great big, tough, strong he-man who would rather bottle up his feelings instead of expressing his grief or sadness to anyone!”  The redhead was yelling now, loudly, her own pain and frustration refusing to be contained any longer.

“So I’m going to leave now and let you just _be_ that macho man island unto yourself!”  She turned on her heel and started to stomp away, her long red curls bouncing and swaying furiously.

“Be sure to let me know how that works out for you, too—if doing even _that_ much sharing doesn’t make you too weak and girly, that is!” she called shrilly over her shoulder.

Stunned, Jenkins stared after her retreating back for a few seconds.  He’d never seen Cassandra so angry before, and it frightened him.  Not because he thought she could hurt him, but because he realized now that he had hurt _her_ , and he had _never_ intended to hurt her.  Recovering his senses, he quickly set the tea on a table and started after her.

“Cassandra, wait!  Please!  I’m sorry!” he called out, genuine contrition in his voice.  She stopped and turned back to face him as he came up next to her, her eyes wary.  He dropped his white head, painfully self-conscious.  “I’m sorry, Cassandra, forgive me.  I’m just…  I don’t know…  I can’t…”

Her expression softened as he visibly struggled for the words he wanted so desperately to say.  She struck her that it had probably been a very long time since the immortal had even had someone to talk to about things like this, and even then that someone had probably been Charlene herself.  Pity flooded her then, driving out all of the feelings of frustration and anger she’d just had.  She reached out and gently raised his drooping head with one delicate forefinger under his chin.  As soon as she had his attention, she looked into his sad brown eyes, her own blue ones, filled now with nothing but empathy.  Without a single word she held out her arms to him.

Jenkins hesitated a moment, torn between fear and longing.  The longing was stronger in the end, and he slowly stepped forward, wrapping his arms around the tiny redhead.  She put her arms around the large man and squeezed him tightly.  He responded in kind, nearly crushing her, but she didn’t stop him.  Soon she heard him gasping harshly into her ear, his grief finally escaping him.  She held onto him as hard as she could, rubbing his back and speaking soothing words to him as he wept.


	11. The Steal of Fortune

**Nota Bene:  I decided that I needed to put my big girl pants on and rewatch Season 4.  I’ll be posting missing Casskins scenes for Season 4 as soon as I get them written, though it won’t be every day.  Enjoy!**

 

Apep had been defeated, the world was safe from pure evil at last.  Cassandra had been terrified that she might have lost Jenkins forever when she saw him being wheeled out of the Annex in monstrous chains and taken away by DOSA.  But they’d rescued him in the end, defeated Apep, saved the world.

After they had all had a chance to catch their breath, Jenkins gathered them all together one day and explained to them that, now that Judson and Charlene were gone, the Library was what he called “untethered”, and until Eve and one of the Librarians tethered themselves to the Library on the upcoming Vernal Equinox to keep it grounded in humanity and “sane”, the consequences would be dire.  The world would be thrown into a new Dark Age, where knowledge was considered evil and humanity would be plunged into chaos.  It all made Cassandra’s head spin, and it made her anxious.  How would all of this affect her and Jenkins and any relationship they may have together?

Then Jenkins had been forced to tell them about Nicole Noone.

Now, several days after her return from Nevada, the Librarian and the Caretaker sat at Jenkins’s workbench in the lab, each working their own project as they talked about the recent developments with Nicole Noone.  It had been a huge shock to everyone to discover that for the last three years a prisoner in a dungeon had been hidden beneath their very feet.  And while she still felt a bit uneasy with the idea of Jenkins being capable of doing that to someone, Cassandra agreed in the end with the older man’s opinion that turning Noone loose was a mistake.  In the short time Cassandra had been in the presence of imprisoned Guardian, she had clearly felt the rage and hatred that emanated from the woman.  She wanted revenge.  The Librarian had the distinct feeling that Flynn’s decision would someday come back to bite them. 

Today, as they worked, Jenkins filled her in on the history of Flynn’s relationship with his first Guardian, and while she listened attentively, Cassandra was dying to turn the topic of their conversation to their own relationship.  Or lack thereof, more accurately.  Ever since Charlene left, they had been stuck in a very stagnant “friend zone”, and Cassandra was getting tired of it.

“So!” Cassandra said suddenly, her voice sharp and crisp.  “Do you agree with what Flynn said?  About how Librarians can’t have relationships outside of the Library?”  Jenkins removed the screwdriver from the magic toaster he was working on and set the tool down carefully on the workbench.  He sat quietly for a few seconds, considering his reply.

“No, I don’t,” he answered, looking up at the anxious woman sitting across the workbench from him.  He stood up and walked over to close the door to the lab, then walked slowly back to stand next to the toaster artifact he’d been working on.

“That’s one of the things that I strenuously disagreed with Judson on,” he said, unable to keep the disdain out of his voice.  “It was easy for Judson to sit and make proclamations like that while he had a partner waiting in the wings the whole time.  I’m disappointed in Mr. Carsen for continuing to insist on that nonsense.  Human beings are social animals, Miss Cillian.  People _need_ relationships; not romantic relationships, necessarily, many folks do quite well without those.  But they _do_ need friendships.  I myself have friends all over the world, from every walk of life.  Of course, my work here doesn’t allow me to see them nearly as often as I would like, but I cherish those relationships, nonetheless.”

“ _Real_ friends, or just people you know?” she asked, and the old man smiled wryly.

“A very astute question, Miss Cillian,” he complimented her.  “ _’Let your acquaintances be many, but only one in a thousand your confidant’_ ,” he quoted, then waved a hand carelessly.  “From Sacred Scripture, the Apocrypha.  The Book of Sirach.  I find them very wise words to live by.”

“So who’s your one in a thousand?” she asked.  He looked at her quizzically.  “Your one confidant out of all your acquaintances?” she clarified.  Jenkins looked down at the tools arrayed neatly on the workbench.

“It’s…or rather…it _was_ …Charlene,” he said, his voice hushed as he idly toyed with a pair of needle-nosed pliers.  “I guess now, though, I have no one that I can _confide_ in…”

“Have you had any romantic relationships?  Outside of Charlene, I mean,” Cassandra cut in bluntly, stung that he apparently didn’t consider _her_ a confidant.  She took a perverse satisfaction in seeing him flinch ever so slightly. 

“I’ve…had a few,” he confessed.  “A handful.  Brief ones.” 

“So you cheated on her, then?” she said brutally.  She knew she was going too far, but she simply couldn’t stop herself.  She just wanted to see him hurting, the way Cassandra was hurting.  “The great love of your life, and you cheated on her.  Interesting.”  Jenkins whipped his head up and stared in dismay at the bland-faced Librarian.

“Cassandra, why are you so angry with me all of a sudden?” he asked.  She snorted.

“Oh, so now we’re back to first names?” she muttered, dropping her hard gaze onto the workbench.  The Caretaker went back to fiddling with the pliers.

“I guess I already know the answer to my question,” he said.  He left the pliers and sat down heavily in his chair.

“Cassandra, I’m _very_ sorry if I’ve hurt you,” he said earnestly.  “That’s the _last_ thing I ever want to do to you.”

“And yet, here we are!” she chirped with false perkiness, waving her hands in the air.  Jenkins frowned, his eyes narrowing.

“I’ve tried to tell you that I’m not the one for you,” he continued, his voice steady and slightly reproving.  “I’ve _tried_ to convince you that a romantic relationship between us would be a bad idea.  I am simply too old for you.  A long life cannot help but bring damage to a person, even to one with a normal lifespan.  I am _so_ much older, Cassandra—I’m…far _too_ damaged now.”  He looked way for a moment, then back at the fuming woman. 

“I know that I’ve sent you mixed signals over the last several months,” he said tensely.  “And I’m _very_ sorry for that.  I _have_ tried to be as honest and upfront with you as I can…” 

“Bullshit!” Cassandra snapped, laughing harshly.  “You’ve been nothing but _dishonest_!  With me, with yourself!”  The redhead fixed him with an intense stare.   

“Jenkins, I want to ask you a question right now, and I want you to promise to give me an honest answer!  _Please_?” she asked, the weight of the world in her pleading voice.  The immortal took a deep breath and looked away.  He already knew what she wanted to ask. 

“Cassandra, don’t…please…” he begged.  She ignored him.

“Will you give me an honest answer?” she persisted, staring into his gaze, not even blinking until he finally dropped his eyes in submission.

“Yes,” he said.  “I will answer honestly.  I swear it.”  Now it was the Librarian’s turn to take a deep, calming breath.

“Are you in love with me at all?”  Jenkins lifted his white head and looked her directly in the eyes.

“Yes,” he rasped, his voice tinged with emotion.  “I… _am_ in love with you, Cassandra Cillian.” 

The blood pounded in Cassandra’s head as he finally spoke the words she had longed to hear so much.  She sat there at the workbench, silent, the floodgates opening and new questions pouring into her brain.

“Then _why_ do you fight those feelings so much?” she asked, almost afraid to hear his answer to that question.  “Is it…is it because I’m…lacking in some way…?  Like, I’m not attractive, or I’m not...”  Jenkins brought his head up and looked at her, his brown eyes full of something like horrified compassion.

“No, Cassandra!  _God_ , no!” he protested vehemently.  “You’re _beautiful_!  It’s as I’ve told you all along— _I’m_ the one who’s lacking!”  He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts.

“You were right when you accused me of cowardice that day you asked me out.  You accused me of being afraid of starting something that I knew I couldn’t finish, and you were right.”  The words spilled out of his mouth as he hurried to say them before losing his nerve.

“I’ve lost so many loved ones, Cassandra, so many friends!  So many lovers!  I’ve stood by and watched them _all_ die, one by one!  I’ve said goodbye to _so_ many— _too_ many!  It nearly drove me insane, Cassandra!  I had to stop… _caring_.  I had to stop… _loving_.  I had to protect myself, otherwise I would’ve become…”  He didn’t have a word for the thing he had feared becoming so long ago.  He waved his hands helplessly.

“So you vowed yourself to Charlene because she was immortal,” the young Librarian mused, a lot of pieces suddenly falling into place.  “She _couldn’t_ die, so she was safe to love.”  An idea suddenly came to her. 

“And since she loved Judson, even if she did die, the loss wouldn’t be so great, because how could you feel the loss of a love that she’d never returned in the first place…?”  Cassandra’s shoulders slumped as the enormity of the old knight’s convoluted thinking sank in.

“Oh, Jenkins,” she breathed, all trace of bitterness gone.  “How could you put yourself through that?  How could you do that to yourself?”  Jenkins straightened upright in his chair; he didn’t like being on the receiving end of anyone’s pity.

“You’ve seen for yourself what immortality has done to Miss Noone!” he said gruffly, instinctively taking refuge in his customary crustiness.  “ _That_ was what _I_ faced becoming if I didn’t find someone to ground me!  Immortal women don’t grow on trees, you know!  It was the only way I had of coping!  Besides, there was always a chance that might change her mind about me…”

“So those were your _only_ two speeds, then—‘psychotic’ or ‘neurotic’?” she shot back angrily.  “Uh-uh, no!  I don’t buy that!  You can’t sit there and tell me that you couldn’t have found someone else to love if you _really_ wanted to!  But no—you went with a woman who had _zero_ interest in you and who—just let me point this out—was _thousands_ of years _older_ than you!  So that whole age difference thing between you and me that you’re so concerned about?  Null and void!”  The Librarian jumped up from her chair and quickly gathered up her books as if preparing to leave.

“And just face it, Jenkins—you and Charlene?  That was _never_ going to happen and you know it!  You just used her as dodge to keep from having to put yourself out there and risk being hurt again!”  He opened his mouth to protest, but then shut it, the anger fading from his face.

“You’re right,” he conceded mournfully.  “It was never going to happen.”

“So let me see if I have this right, then,” the Librarian said sourly.  “You pledge your love for all eternity to a woman who you _know_ will _never_ love you in return, but now that she’s gone, and you have a woman literally right in front of you who you _are_ in love with, and who is madly in love with _you_ —you don’t want to touch _that_ with a ten-foot pole.  Am I reading that correctly?”

“Well!” he retorted, fussing with the lapels of his lab coat.  “When you say it out loud like that you make it all sound rather pathetic and ridiculous!”   Cassandra leaned over the workbench and arched her eyebrows triumphantly.

“Well, if the shoe _fits_ , MR. Jenkins…!”  The two glared at each for several seconds, neither willing to give the other the satisfaction of blinking first.  Suddenly Cassandra burst into giggles, then outright laughter, causing the confused Jenkins to look askance.

“I’m sorry, Jenkins,” she said, walking around the workbench to stand next to him.  “It just struck me that we’re _both_ kinda pathetic and ridiculous right now!”  The Librarian, looking tired, took a deep breath..

“Look, can we just stop playing this… _game_?  Can we just agree that, right now, we are in love with each other, and start from there?”  She began pulling at the hem of her lime-green skirt.

“We’re both damaged, you know,” she continued.  “Just in different ways.  I know that we would have a lot of work to do, alone and together, but…I think you’re worth it.”  Jenkins remained silent, his expression unreadable.  Cassandra wavered a bit, but then shrugged her shoulders and forged ahead.

“Listen, I’m not saying ‘let’s go get married today’ or anything like that.  I’m not even saying ‘let’s have sex today’.  All I’m saying is, can we please just give each other a chance?  Give _us_ a chance?  Just a _chance_.  If it doesn’t work out, then at least we’ll know.  We won’t be sitting somewhere forty or fifty years from now wondering ‘what if?’.”  She raised her eyes to his and took a step closer.  He could see tears beginning to shine in her eyes. 

“Because I really _am_ in love with you, Jenkins,” she whispered fervently, her voice shaking.  “As unbelievable as you think that is.  I think you’re the smartest, kindest, gentlest, most wonderful man I’ve ever known, and I’m just not willing to walk away from you until we’ve at least given ourselves a chance.”  The immortal looked steadily into her eyes for several moments.

“So what I’m hearing, then, Miss Cillian,” he began in a low, emotionless voice.  “Is that I’m not the most _handsome_ man you’ve ever known?”  Cassandra blinked, not sure she had just heard what he said, and Jenkins burst into laughter at the utterly confused look on her face.  As soon as she realized that he was teasing her, she broke into a wide, relieved grin.  A playful Jenkins was a _very_ good sign!

“Forgive me, Cassandra,” he said, becoming more serious.  “I’ve not made things easy for you, and I’m sorry.”  He paused for a moment and dropped his eyes.

“I…I am in love with you, too— _very_ much in love,” he confessed timidly.  “And…I _am_ afraid of being hurt.   I am afraid of being _too_ damaged for you to love back.”  Jenkins paused for a moment, afraid his emotions were going to get away from him.  He raised his head and squared his shoulders with determination.

“But…I am also willing to give us a chance.  I ask for patience, though.  It’s been a very long time since I’ve…courted…anyone.”  He looked at her again, a wondering, unsure expression on his face.

“Do people still use that term at all these days?  ‘Courting’?” he asked.

“Only very old people,” Cassandra said, deadpan.  Jenkins rolled his eyes and let his head fall back, a small whine of false pain coming from his throat at the dig. 

Suddenly Cassandra reached out and laid her hand on his cheek.  It was warm and smooth, and much softer than she was expecting.  Jenkins brought his head forward and stared up into her crystalline blue eyes.  She began to gently run her fingers through the hair at his temple, and the immortal, becoming rapidly dizzy at the sensation, slowly sucked in a shaky, silent breath.  Jenkins closed his eyes and turned his face into her hand.  How long had it been since he’d been touched like this?  He couldn’t remember.

He covered her hand with his and held it still, just long enough for him to impulsively kiss her palm softly.  When he opened his eyes to look at her, Cassandra leaned down and kissed him, gently at first, then more intensely, her small tongue teasing its way between his lips and then quickly brushing against his tongue before withdrawing.  As she stood up, the blood roared in Jenkins’s head as he gasped quietly for breath.

“I guess we should get back to work, now, huh?” she murmured shyly, already hurrying back to her chair, her cheeks glowing as they turned bright pink.  Jenkins smiled and dazedly nodded his head, wondering if this was really just some wonderful dream that he was about to wake up from any moment now.  Best to double-check...

“Cassandra!”  She stopped and turned around to face him again.  In an instant he was out of his chair and had her small face between his hands.  He kissed her again, much harder this time, and she responded eagerly.  Tiny whimpers came from both as they passionately kissed, their arms wrapped tightly around each other, each hanging onto the other for dear life now that they had finally found one another.


	12. The Bleeding Crown

Jenkins carried the tray loaded with tea and jello into the lab.  He didn’t know why he chose tea and jello as a suitable snack for anyone; he only put the tray together as something to distract himself from his irritation and upset after the dressing down he’d gotten from Darrington Dare.  But it didn’t work; he kept replaying the scene in his mind over and over while he worked.  Jenkins _had_ tried to warn Mr. Carsen, _from the very beginning_ , that there could only ever be _one_ Librarian!  But of course the infuriating man had simply “pipsy-poshed” him and then gone on to do just as he damn well pleased.  As _all_ Librarians seemed to do.  _No one_ ever listened to Jenkins when he tried to head off a disaster— _that_ made him an alarmist!  But they were certainly ready to blame _him_ and expect _him_ to clean up the mess whenever their plans went to hell in a handbasket...!

The Caretaker was still in an irritable mood as he rounded the corner.  He opened his mouth to announce his arrival, but closed it again without a word when he saw that all of the magically prematurely-aged Librarians were fast asleep around the workbench.

“They're so _cute_ when they're asleep!" he muttered sarcastically to himself.  He set the tray down on the end of the bench and turned to leave.  He stopped suddenly as a thought came to him, and he turned to sweep his eye over the slumbering group.  He went to where Cassandra was slumped over, her gray head resting on her hands.

He stood quietly for a moment, looking down at her.  Immortals were normally forbidden to know the future, but here was an opportunity for him to know this small thing—what Cassandra would look like decades from now.  As he stood there gazing at the sleeping Librarian, Jenkins realized that even though her smooth, flawless face was now wrinkled, and her thick, flaming red hair was now thin and silver, and her small, perfect hands were now bony and gnarled, he still thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known.

Jenkins reached his hand out and lightly brushed the back of his finger against her cool, dry cheek, then took a lock of her hair between his fingers to gently follow its length all the way to the end.  He suddenly imagined himself walking through Cathedral Park with this older Cassandra, fifty years from now, hand in hand.  With the tumor gone now, it was surprisingly easy to imagine them together in the distant future.  Walking slowly, because even though she was determined not to let old age hold her back, her mortal body just wasn’t as strong and agile as it used to be.  He could picture himself, as the years went by one by one, having to help her more and more every day with all of the small things of life as her body gradually failed her, things she simply couldn’t manage anymore.  Dressing, eating, moving.  Cassandra growing weaker and weaker with each passing year until, finally, the day came that not even _he_ could protect her from.

Jenkins realized that there was a large, painful lump in his throat, and tears were stinging his eyes.  He blinked several times to drive them away and cleared his throat quietly as he pulled himself back to the present.  He didn’t want to think about that day.  He didn’t want to think about saying yet another final farewell.  He already loved Cassandra so much—much more than he was willing to admit even to her right now.  How much more deeply would he love her fifty years from now?  How much more emotionally attached would he be to her by then?  How in God’s name would he cope with that awful day when it finally came?

Perhaps he’d made a mistake becoming involved with her.  Perhaps it would be better for both of them if he ended this “relationship” before it could really begin, before they _both_ ended up getting hurt.  Cassandra was still young and beautiful—or, she would be again, once this magic was reversed and the Librarians were restored.  Cassandra should have the opportunity—indeed, should be _encouraged_ —to find someone else, someone she could grow old with, share her life with, naturally.  Not him, not an aberration, not a broken, twisted freak like him.

Jenkins closed his eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath as he tried to shove all of those thoughts away.  No!  He mustn’t let himself think like that anymore!  He couldn’t let his fears and insecurities talk him out of this!  On the night of her surgery he’d told her that the Library had chosen her for her abilities, but…perhaps that wasn’t the _only_ reason she had been chosen?

Perhaps…perhaps she had also been chosen because the Library thought she would be a suitable match.  For _him_.  Could such a thing be true…?

The immortal shook his head, scolding himself for indulging in such nonsensical thinking.  The Library had _much_ more important considerations when it chose its Librarians; it didn’t have time for such foolishness as matchmaking.  What did the Library care about the happiness of one old Caretaker?

Jenkins picked up the tea tray and cast one final look at Cassandra.  He felt his ancient heart skip a beat in his chest— _how_ had this all happened?  It didn’t matter.  It _had_ happened, and no matter how hard he might wish it otherwise, he could not dismiss the thought that the Library had brought Cassandra into his life for a reason, that they were somehow destined to be together.

And if there was one thing that Sir Galahad, the Grail Knight of Virtue, had finally learned in his thousand-plus years on this earth, it was that _no one_ can escape their destiny.


	13. The Graves of Time

Jenkins turned from the stricken Eve Baird and walked slowly out of the workroom. It had been very hard to tell her that Mr. Carsen had—yet again—disappeared and left her behind, this time for good, apparently. Jenkins had come to have a great deal of respect for Carsen as a Librarian over the years, but as a person? The young man was far too flighty and inconsiderate of others. Jenkins detested being the Librarian's "hatchet-man", always having to be the one to give Colonel Baird the bad news, always having to be the one to try and soften the blow, always having to be the one who had to try and explain and rationalize and excuse Carsen's behavior, all the while looking into his friend's pain-filled, bewildered eyes while trying to offer support and comfort, however ineffectual.

This latest incident was almost more than Jenkins could handle this time. The Caretaker had had to try and be _her_ support and strength, while he himself hadn't even had a chance yet to fully process and come to terms with the huge changes that had just taken place in _his_ own life a couple of days earlier.

He was mortal now.

He was going to _die_ one day. And _much_ sooner than he was really prepared for.

_I sometimes wonder if a final rest might not actually be welcomed?_

They had been brave words a few days ago when he spoke them to Flynn, words blithely tossed out there by one who was shielded by the knowledge that he would never have to actually take that 'final rest'.

Numbness now swept over him at the thought. He _had_ done the right thing in giving his immortality over to Nicole Noone; it was the _only_ thing he could have done to make things right after having misjudged her so badly, after having kept her cruelly locked up in that cage for so long. Of course his life was forfeit, there was no question in his mind about that.

Not that that knowledge did anything to ease the icy dread that filled him now. Someday he would have to retire, he would have to leave the Library. _Leave the Library!_ His work, his lab. The Librarians—his _family_.

He'd have to leave Cassandra.

His eyes began to burn as tears tried to form. He could scarcely take it all in; a painful knot in his chest made breathing difficult.

Jenkins suddenly found himself standing outside of the kitchen door. How had he gotten here? He shook his silver head. It didn't matter; if _ever_ he needed the comfort of hot tea, it was right now. He laid his hand on the door and shoved it open.

He stopped just inside the door, startled to find Cassandra Cillian already in the kitchen. At the sound of the door opening she turned to face him, and he could see a tea tray already laid out on the countertop. She looked at him with large, sad eyes, then waved a hand clumsily at the tea tray.

"I was just about to bring you some tea..." she said in a thin, faint voice. She dropped her head and began to nervously twist a ring on her right hand as an uncomfortable silence filled the room.

"Jenkins, listen, I just want you to know that we— _all_ of us, I mean—we're _all_ going to be here for you." She looked up again, her eyes still full of sadness, but now there was also a spark of something else in them, something like...determination.

" _I'll_ always be here for you, no matter what. No matter what you need or what happens from here on out, I'll _always_ be right there beside you, to the very end. You're not going to be alone in this, Jenkins. I swear!"

The man and the woman stood and stared at each other for several long seconds, neither saying another word.

Jenkins suddenly felt very tired, as though he could feel every minute of his 1500 years of life sitting squarely on his shoulders, crushing him, crushing his spirit. He dropped his gaze for a moment, and the Librarian could see his lower lip quiver ever so slightly. Cassandra stepped away from the counter and held out her arms.

Jenkins stayed rooted to the floor. He wanted nothing more in the world right now than to run and throw himself between the young woman's arms and let her comfort him, but he held himself back. This wasn't like when Charlene passed. He had brought this current situation upon himself; he didn't deserve to be comforted, had no right to seek solace in the arms of another. He must be _strong_ , he must bear the consequences of his own actions alone, not burden others with them, not Cassandra…

Cassandra saw his lips tighten and press together as he struggled to keep his emotions under control. She also saw the utter misery pooling in his brown eyes, the loneliness, the aching longing to let himself be vulnerable, but unable to give himself permission. She took a deep breath and heaved it out, then clenched her jaw with resolve.

_Screw this 'noble knight' shit!_

She ran to him and threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely to herself.

"You're _not_ going to be alone, Jenkins, I _promise_...!" she whispered again, roughly, almost angrily, tears coming to her eyes.

Jenkins was too surprised to react at first, but then, slowly, his arms crept up and around the small Librarian's body. She felt his breathing become rapid and shallow as his arms tightened around her. She felt his head come down and his cold cheek come to rest gently against hers. She felt his hot tears as they fell onto the sensitive skin of her neck, the wall finally collapsing as he gave in to the fear, the anger and the confusion of the last few days.

She held him silently, her own tears flowing quietly down her cheeks as she tried not to think about the world that was inevitably coming, a world without Jenkins in it.


	14. The Disenchanted Forest

Jenkins carried a small tray with an afternoon snack of tea and shortbread into the workroom.  That awful, terrifying cold had finally broken and he was feeling _much_ better today, his appetite finally coming back.  As soon as he passed through the doorway he stopped, surprised to see Cassandra seated at her desk, listlessly flipping the pages of a Renaissance-era grimoire.  He changed direction and walked over to her.

“Cassandra?  I thought you were going to spend the afternoon in the Archives?  Are you all right” he asked as he came to a halt in front of her.  An awful thought suddenly came to him.

“Are you ill?  Oh, dear—have you caught my cold?!”  Cassandra looked up at him and smiled wanly.

“No, I’m okay,” she said.  “How are _you_ feeling today?”

“Almost back to my new ‘normal’, I’m happy to say,” he answered her.  “Doubtless it was that delicious chicken soup that you made for me before you left for Colonel Baird’s team-building camp that was responsible for my rapid recovery.  Thank you for that, by the way—it was the only thing that gave me an appetite.”  He gave her a small bow.

“I must admit, that cold gave me a fright,” he continued, setting down the tray.  “It’s been a very long time since I was last sick.  Even when I was a mortal in the days of Camelot, I was rarely ill.  I’d forgotten how it felt.”  He cocked his head slightly and looked hard at the abnormally subdued Librarian through narrowed eyes.

“You may not have a cold, Cassandra, but something is definitely bothering you.  Is there something I can do to help?”  The young woman sighed and sat back in her chair without looking up.

“Ezekiel got mad at me at the camp,” she said.  “I played a bunch of stupid pranks on him, but I went too far with the last prank.”  She glanced up at him and then dropped her eyes back to the manuscript.

“What did you do, exactly?” Jenkins asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.

“I slipped him a sleeping potion without his knowledge, then I put him on a raft and sent him floating out into the lake.”  Her brow wrinkled as a distraught look came to her face.

“I can see now that it was a dumb thing to do!  It was dangerous, too; he could’ve rolled off the raft and drowned!  But, at the time…”  Cassandra’s voice became rough and choked.  Jenkins took a deep, quiet breath.  No wonder Mr. Jones had been giving her the cold shoulder over the last couple of days, though the Caretaker would’ve paid good money to see _that_ scene play out.

“ _Why_ did you do that, Cassandra?” he asked gently.

“Because that’s what they do in the movies,” she replied feebly, throwing her hands into the air in front of her.  “They play tricks on each other, everyone laughs!  I thought that’s what would happen here, too.  But...it didn’t.  No one laughed, except me.  And that just made things worse.”  She dropped her head, her shoulders slumping.

“Ezekiel said that that was my problem, that I have no experience with real life or how the real world works.  He said that my whole life has been spent living in books and studying and the Library, and that maybe I need to go out and learn how it all works.  I’ve been thinking about what he said ever since we got back, and...he’s right, I guess.  I _am_ pretty clueless about how real life works.  So maybe I _should_ go.”  She looked up at the Caretaker standing silently in front of her desk.

“Maybe I do need to leave the Library and experience the real world.  Maybe...I just need to leave the Library permanently?  I mean...only one of us can tether with Eve anyway, and if Mr. Dare was right about how there can only be _one_ Librarian...”  She shrugged her shoulders. 

Jenkins felt a cold, hollow place suddenly open up in his chest, but he was careful to keep his face expressionless.  He pondered her words for a few minutes.

“You already know my feelings regarding Mr. Dare and his beliefs,” he began, walking around of her desk to stand next to Cassandra.  “I don’t believe for a moment that you three would ever go to war.”  He paused for a moment, then went on.

“I also think that perhaps Mr. Jones spoke more out of injured pride than anything else,” he said, reaching down to take her hand in his.  “If memory serves, when Mr. Carsen first found you, you were taking care of yourself, in the real world, as you call it.  You’d been on your own and taking care of yourself for some years, ever since you dropped out of high school and left that nasty collection of unpleasant ‘real life’ experiences behind.”  He gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“You’ve had _plenty_ of so-called real life experiences, Cassandra,” he said, fixing his gaze on her.  “Just because _your_ experiences are different from Mr. Jones’s, or are different from what he _thinks_ they should be, does not negate or invalidate yours in the least!  Everyone’s experiences in this life are different, my dear, and no one gets to tell you which of yours are valid and which are not—don’t let Mr. Jones or anyone else convince you otherwise.”  The Librarian smiled up at him and squeezed his hand back.

“Thank you, Jenkins,” she said.  “That’s very sweet of you to say.”

“And very _true_ ,” he answered sternly.  “ _Never_ let others tell you that your life or your experiences or you feelings or anything like that do not count!”  He was happy to see some of the sadness disappear from her eyes.

“I won’t, I promise!” she said, giving his hand another squeeze before letting it go.  “Still, I think he’s right about one thing, I need to get out of the Library and experience ‘real life’ now, post-tumor.  I never really expected to have a future _anywhere_ that lasted longer than a few years, I never expected to grow old; now that the tumor’s gone, maybe I _should_ go out and see if I’d prefer that life outside of the Library?  After all, I might never get a chance like this again, I should take advantage of it, right?”

The old Caretaker felt his heart stumble in his chest. 

“I’ll go with you!”  The words fell out of his mouth before he even knew that he was speaking.  “I mean, after all...I’m mortal now.  I won’t be able to stay here forever, not anymore.  Someday I’ll be too...old and weak to fulfill my duties.  I’ll _have_ to resign.” 

His mind fast-forwarded to a day in the not so distant future, to a life outside of the Library with Cassandra.  Only instead of him taking care of her, _she_ was now taking care of _him_ in his old age.  She was now helping _him_ to dress, eat, move; she was the one watching _him_ grow older and weaker, and it tore his heart in two.  He loved Cassandra more than he could say, and she had promised to be with him to the end of his mortal life…but he couldn’t let her such a sacrifice now.  She was still young and smart and beautiful, she would have no trouble finding a more suitable beau.  As afraid as he was of his future, he couldn’t let her throw away years of her life for a sick, feeble old man.  That would be selfish of him, and cruel.

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you, Jenkins, but I haven’t made any firm decisions yet.  It’s just an idea I had.  If I do decide to take some time away from the Library, I think maybe I should be on my own first, anyway, at least for a little while,” she said, oblivious to his pain as he silently sighed in relief at the out she’d given him.  “Besides, it’s going to be a _long_ time before you’re ready to retire, if at all!”  He noticed that her tone was one of forced optimism.

“I think you’re right,” he replied, pasting a careless smile onto his face.  “It _would_ be somewhat difficult to see what a Library-less life is like if you have its Caretaker dogging your steps.”  He went back around her desk and picked up his tea tray with unsteady hands.

“Whatever you decide to do, Cassandra, I want you to know that you will have my support, one hundred percent.  I’ll help you to settle into your new life in whatever way I can.”  The Librarian smiled up at him, a genuinely this time.

“Thanks, Jenkins!” she said warmly.  “That means a lot to me.”  Jenkins forced another smile onto his face.

“My pleasure,” he said, his heart feeling like a lump of ice sitting in his chest as he turned away from her and walked to his own desk.


	15. The Hidden Sanctuary

“Cassie, you take as much time as you need, okay?” Jacob said gruffly.  “The Library's always gonna have a Librarian as long as _I'm_ here!” 

“I know,” the redhead answered, smiling sadly as she looked around at the worried faces in front of her.  She had hoped that Jenkins would come to see her off; the Caretaker had been far too quiet ever since she told him about her plans for a ‘sabbatical’.  He’d been avoiding her, too.  Still, she thought he would at least come to say good-bye, but he was nowhere to be seen. 

“Look, Jenkins told me he he’s been thinking about his purpose within the Library; that's what _I_ need to do.  Find out if my purpose is here or elsewhere.”  Eve forced herself to smile and gave Cassandra a quick hug, 

“Be safe!” she said. 

“That's the plan!”  Cassandra took one final quick look for Jenkins.  He still wasn’t there, and her heart sank. With a small sigh, she turned and, tightly grasping the handle of her suitcase, blinked the tears from her eyes as she rushed through the Back Door and into her new life in Havenport, Ohio.  Jacob nudged Ezekiel’s arm as they watched the doors swing shut.

“She'll be back,” he growled, glancing hopefully at the other two.

Eve sighed, but said nothing, and turned around just in time to catch sight of Jenkins disappearing into the corridor at the back of the workroom.  He must’ve watched Cassandra’s departure from the doorway.  She stood still for a moment, considering what she should do.  She knew that there was a relationship blossoming between the Caretaker and the Librarian, all the signs were there for the world to see.  Early on, the sharp-eyed Guardian had noticed the looks that passed between the two of them, how Jenkins’s mood was always much lighter when Cassandra was around, how he was always so much gentler and attentive with her than he was with the boys.  She suspected that even though the old man played his cards close to his vest, he was truly smitten with the young Librarian; Cassandra was obviously smitten with him.

Baird thought that she should go after him, make sure Jenkins was all right.  She didn’t really feel up to it, she was still reeling from Flynn’s abandoning her, the pressure to find a Librarian to tether with, and now this thing with Cassandra—the Guardian just didn’t want to deal with more drama right now.  She went back to work on the inventory, but then realized that she _had_ to go to Jenkins.  He was always there for her, for all of them, whenever they needed a pep talk or to vent.  Now he needed _them_ to be there for _him_.  They all needed each other, now more than ever.  The tall woman dropped the paperwork she held in her hand and headed off in the direction she’d seen Jenkins go.

She found him in his lab, seated at the workbench, books and papers and artifacts scattered in front of him.  He was holding a brightly-colored cloth of pink and green in his large hands, and even though he was staring at it hard, Eve saw that his eyes were dull and unfocused.  She raised her head and squared her shoulders as she approached him.

“Jenkins!” she called out briskly.  “How’s it going in here?”  He jerked his head up, startled, and quickly stuffed the cloth into his coat pocket.

“Colonel,” he greeted, a little too brightly.  “It goes slowly, but surely, as every inventory does.”  Eve dropped into the chair across the table from him.

“Cassandra’s off to Ohio,” she said, watching his face closely.  “Missed you out there, thought for sure you’d want to see her off…”  The Guardian saw the man’s shoulders tense up.

“Yes, well, we said our farewells earlier, Colonel,” he lied.  He’d gone out of his way to avoid Cassandra over the last few days, ever since she had told him of her plans.  When he had encouraged her to think about her place in the Library and what she wanted her role to be, he certainly hadn’t meant for her to leave!  When she told him she was going to Havenport, Jenkins felt like he’d just been struck in the chest by a Viking war-hammer.  He hadn’t meant to go to the workroom this morning at all.  He didn’t want to say good-bye, didn’t want his last memory of Cassandra to be of her disappearing through the Back Door, but at the last minute he caved in.  He _had_ to see her one last time, just in case she decided to never come back.

“I’ve said it before, Jenkins—you’re a _terrible_ liar,” Baird scolded him gently.  “What’s really going on?”  The Caretaker sat back in his chair, but said nothing.

“Look, I know you two have some kind of a relationship going on,” the woman stated flatly.  She was rewarded with a guilty look from Jenkins.  “I don’t know _how_ involved you are, but I know that you are.”  Her voice softened as she continued.

“You’ve been such a huge support for me with Flynn, Jenkins, I just want to pay that back.  You’re obviously upset; let me help.  Please?”  Jenkins sat quietly for a few moments, thinking.

“I don’t know if you can call it a ‘relationship’, exactly,” he finally said.  “But…I do care for Cassandra, very much.” 

“Do you love her?” Baird asked bluntly.  She had learned a long time ago that she had to be as straightforward as possible with the old Caretaker, otherwise he could be slippery as an eel.  He paused again, as if debating something with himself.

“Yes,” he finally admitted, suddenly tired of playing games.  “I _do_ love her, a great deal.  That’s why I’m letting her go.”  Eve narrowed her eyes.

“What do you mean, ‘letting her go’?” she asked, and he sighed.

“I mean, Colonel, that if Cassandra has a chance for a normal life outside of the Library, she needs to be encouraged to take it.  She needs to be encouraged to take full advantage of that fresh start.”  He dropped his eyes to the workbench in front of him.

“She needs to be encouraged to…find another.  To share that new life with.”  Eve blinked, stunned by what he was saying.

“So you’re just going to end things?  Just like that?” she asked.  “What did Cassandra say when you told her?”  Jenkins swallowed and refused to look up at her.

“You haven’t even told her!?” she accused him, her shoulders slumping in disbelief.  “Jenkins, how could you do that?  What’s gotten into you?”  He looked up, then, his eyes hard and full of pain.

“Mortality,” he answered sharply.  “ _Mortality_ is what has gotten into me!  I’m going to die, Colonel, sooner rather than later— _much_ sooner.  Cassandra deserves…”  He had to stop for a moment to get his emotions under control again before going on.

“She deserves to be with someone her own age,” he said, calmly now.  “Someone she can live with and grow old with _naturally_.  I can’t let her throw away a chance for that kind of happiness, not for what amounts to a mere infatuation.  I can’t allow her to waste precious years of her life on me.” 

His voice became quiet and hard-edged as he spoke.  Eve stared at him the whole time, shocked.  How could one man be _so_ noble and _so_ stupid at the same time?

“Jenkins, what the hell are you talking about?” she demanded.  “You’re just gonna cut her out of your life?  Just like that?  _She loves you_ , Jenkins!  It’s not just an infatuation!  What if she decides to stay here?  What if she _chooses_ to stay with you?”

“I won’t let her!” he snapped harshly, then held his hands up in apology.

“Forgive me, Colonel; I didn’t mean to be so sharp,” he said.  “I just want Cassandra to be happy.”

“And what if being with _you_ is what makes her happy?” Eve asked softly, distress filling her blue eyes.  Jenkins had no answer for that, and so she pressed her advantage.

“Jenkins, look—I know you’re still adjusting to this whole mortality thing.  I can’t even _begin_ to imagine what that’s like for you.  But mortal or immortal, you don’t get to decide who Cassandra falls in love with.  You don’t get to decide who she cares about.  Only Cassandra gets to do that!  And if she wants to ‘waste her time’ with you, then that’s _her_ decision to make, that’s _her_ right!”  Jenkins opened his mouth, but Eve hurried on before he could speak.

“I _know_ you’re afraid of being a burden to her, I know you’re worried about hurting her or causing her pain, but she’s an adult, Jenkins, and she’s actually been in your shoes!”  Baird leaned over the table, staring hard into the Caretaker’s eyes.

“Look me in the eye, Jenkins, and tell me the truth:  If she still had that tumor, and you were still immortal, would _you_ stop loving her because she was going to die soon, just cut her loose to struggle and die all alone?”  Jenkins stared back at her, outraged by the very idea of doing such a dastardly thing.

“Absolutely not!” he gasped.  “How could you even suggest that?  Besides, this is a totally different situation…”

“No, it isn’t, Jenkins!” she shot back.  “It’s _exactly_ the same situation, just in reverse!  _You_ never considered rejecting Cassandra because she was going to die; is your opinion of her really so low that you actually believe _she’s_ capable of rejecting you?”  Her expression and voice turned pleading.

“Don’t let this stop you from finding happiness for yourself, Jenkins!  And don’t deny Cassandra the happiness that she wants to share with you for as long as you two might have together,” she urged.  “Don’t cheat yourself out this, Skip, _please_!”  The Caretaker sat still for a moment, absorbing her words.  Eve sat back in her chair and ran her hands over her hair, heaving a deep sigh.

“So that’s my two cents’ worth,” she said.  “What do you think?”  Jenkins sat up straight and raised his eyes to meet hers.

“I think that I would give anything to see her right now,” he murmured, then dropped his gaze.  His expression reminded Eve of a lost puppy; she knew exactly how he felt right now.  A lopsided smile came to her face.

“I think we can manage the next best thing,” she said, getting up from the table.  “Come on!”

 

* * *

 

 Hearing the sound of Cassandra’s voice, even over the static-filled line, was a tremendous relief to the old Caretaker.  Even though their conversation had been brief and about nothing, just hearing her made him feel better.  At least, until she began bubbling about how great her new life was and how well she was adapting to it.  That had been a dagger to his heart, and the more he thought about Colonel Baird’s words in the lab, the more he realized that she was right.  He wanted Cassandra in his life right now—here, in the Library, for as long as they could possibly be together.  He _wanted_ to be happy, just for a little while.  He felt a twinge of guilt at his selfishness, but he had made so many sacrifices over the centuries, perhaps now that his life was about to come to its end, he could be forgiven a bit of selfishness where Cassandra was concerned.

The next several days were long and tedious as he and the others finished the inventory.  He was grateful for the distraction, though there were times when he simply couldn’t focus on the work at hand. 

He went to the optometrist and was fitted with new glasses.  As he stared at his reflection in the mirror while wearing them one day, he couldn’t help but wonder what body part would begin to fail him next.  His hearing?  His heart?  His joints?  He shook his head and went back to work.

Repeated attempts to contact Cassandra all failed, and he was beginning to worry.  What if she had _chosen_ to cut off all communication with them?  What if she had decided that Havenport was her new home now, and had chosen to simply cut off all contact with the Library and her old life cold turkey?  His new mortality sharpening his feelings of fear and loneliness and failure to an almost unbearable keenness, he began to believe that he would never see Cassandra again.  With every passing day his nerves—and temper—became more frayed. 

One day, a little over two weeks after Cassandra had left, the old candlestick phone on Jenkins’s desk rang, the loud, sudden sound nearly giving him heart attack as he jumped in his chair.  He glared at the offensive device for a few seconds before he realized that Colonel Baird, Jacob and Ezekiel were in the workroom with him; there could only be one person calling _into_ the Annex.  He dropped his quill and snatched the phone up, yanking the receiver off its hook and slamming it painfully against his ear, his hands shaking with excitement and dread.  Eve, Stone and Jones, summoned by the ringing phone, rushed to gather in front of his high desk.

“Hello?  Hello?  Cassandra?!” he practically yelled into the phone.  Eve secretly crossed her fingers behind her back as she strained her ears to hear the person on the other end of the line.  The Guardian’s heart began to race when she recognized Cassandra Cillian’s voice.

Jenkins listened in silence for a few minutes, occasionally mumbling “yes” or “I see” as the Librarian prattled on excitedly.  Jacob and Ezekiel were soon making faces and gestures, silently demanding to know what she was saying, if she was coming back or staying in Ohio, and even Eve was beginning to lose patience as the one-sided conversation dragged on.

The anxious Caretaker suddenly slumped in his chair.  A beatific smile Eve had ever seen before spread across the old man’s face and his eyes glowed with joy.

“I’m _very_ happy to hear that, Cassandra!” he said, a tiny hint of emotion seeping into his voice.  “When exactly may we expect your return?”  The boys pumped their fists vigorously in the air and high-fived each other, while Eve covered her mouth with her hands and grinned, tears coming to her eyes.  Jenkins quickly wrapped up the conversation and hung up the phone.

“Cassandra has decided to come back to the Library!” he announced unnecessarily.  “It seems Havenport had some trouble with a particularly ill-tempered fairy, which is why we couldn’t communicate with her, but fortunately, clever Librarian that she is, she was able to take care of the situation.”  He hopped off of his chair and began to clear his desktop.

“Now, I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’ll all excuse me, please, I have to get ready to go to Havenport to escort Cassandra back home!”

 

* * *

 

 “If you ever decide to visit, you'll _always_ have a home here!” said Karla, giving Cassandra a warm hug.

“Thank you!” the redhead replied, then watched for a moment as her new friend walked over to the very contrite Councilman Weeks.  The Librarian suddenly felt eyes on her, and she broke into a wide smile as she turned around.

“Nice specs!” she called to the tall, beaming, silver-haired man trying to appear nonchalant as he leaned against the bus stop sign.  Cassandra noticed at once that he was wearing the colorful silk pocket square that she had given him for Christmas three years ago, and a little flutter of happiness rippled through her.  Jenkins immediately stood up and pulled off the glasses self-consciously. 

“Oh! Just conforming to my new reality!” he said cheerfully, walking slowly toward her.  “Human ingenuity in the face of conflict or obstacles—always commendable.”

“You can say that again,” Cassandra agreed fervently.  “You missed all the fun.”  Jenkins stopped and looked down at her, abashed.

“I should have come to your aid; I apologize,” he began.  “I didn't reali—“

“It's okay,” she cut him off, still smiling.  “Turns out, I came to _my own_ aid!”  Jenkins, not knowing how to respond, held a hand out toward her suitcase.

“Ah.  May I?” he asked, and she nodded her head.

“Ah.  Thank you!” she said teasingly.  They walked along the sidewalk as they continued to talk.

“If I've learned anything, it's that you can't avoid risk,” she informed him as they approached the location of the Back Door.  “Might as well do something with your life that makes that risk worthwhile.  Although, I _did_ enjoy my time being a librarian, with a little ‘L’, just a bit.”  A tiny frown marred her face.

“So much for normal…”  She caught the Caretaker trying to hide an almost foolish grin.

“What? What is that smile?” she demanded. Jenkins stood to one side of the portal and gave her a shy look.

“I’m just glad that you’ve realized what we all have clearly known; you are _anything_ but normal.  And thank goodness for that!”  He ushered her through the doorway and back into the Annex workroom, where the others had gathered and were eagerly waiting for her.  As soon as she was through, they were on her, enveloping her in a happy, relieved group hug. Being neither Guardian nor Librarian, Jenkins stood awkwardly apart, not wanting to intrude on their moment.  He busied himself with shutting down the door mechanism, then watched, content, as the others welcomed their fellow Librarian home.  He couldn’t help but smile at the scene.  This was truly where she belonged, here, in the Library, with the others.  With him.

 

* * *

 

 A couple of hours later, after she’d had a chance to unpack her things, Cassandra stood outside the door to Jenkins’s suite of rooms in the Library.  She hesitated for a moment before knocking; Jenkins didn’t like to be disturbed when he was in his room.  In fact, she had been with the Library two years before Cassandra even knew where his rooms were located.  In fact, even _now_ , she was the _still_ the only one of the group who knew where they located.  She sucked in a quick breath and knocked.  A few seconds later, the heavy oak door swung warily open.  As soon as Jenkins saw her, his eyes lit up.

“Hey, you!” she greeted him, a giddy feeling suddenly overtaking her at the sight of his smile.  “Um…the others are gonna take me out for dinner tonight, sort of as a ‘welcome back to the Library’ party, and I just wanted to make sure you knew that you’re invited, too—you’re gonna come, right?”  The Caretaker remained silent, his brown eyes boring into Cassandra, making her uneasy.

“Um, Jenkins?” she asked timidly.  “Is everything okay?  Are you—“   The Librarian squeaked in surprise as, without any warning, before even Jenkins himself knew what he was doing, he grabbed her arm and pulled her into his room.  He kicked the door shut as he swept her up in his arms and held her tightly against his chest.  After her initial shock passed, Cassandra eagerly wrapped her arms around him in return.  She felt one of his hands travel up her back and entangle itself into her long red hair at the back of her head.

“I missed you, Cassandra!” he whispered into her ear, his cheek nuzzling against her own.  “I missed you so very much!”  The Librarian felt an almost painful surge of love for him pass through her chest.  She tightened her arms around him even more.

“I missed you, too,” she whispered back, closing her eyes.  “I was so happy to see you today at the bus stop!”

“Not half as happy as I was to see you, my dear!” he rumbled, his voice catching slightly.  “I was so afraid that…”  He cut himself off and stood back from a little so that he could look down into her face.

“Cassandra, I…I love you!” he said, the words coming out in a tumble as he gazed intently into her eyes.  “I know I’m too old for you, I know I don’t have much of a future to offer you anymore, I know that I’m not a young woman’s idea of the perfect man and that I have a great deal of what you would call ‘baggage’, I know that you deserve so much better than me, but…I want to be with you, every minute, for the rest of my life!  If…if you’ll have me, that is…”  The longing and fear of rejection that Cassandra saw in his brown eyes nearly broke her heart.

“Of course I do!” she whispered hoarsely, tears of joy pooling and spilling down her cheeks.  “I love you, Jenkins; I’ve _always_ loved you!  All I want—all I’ve _ever_ wanted—is to be here with you, in the Library!”

A soft whimper of relief and elation escaped the Caretaker’s throat as he pulled her close and kissed her, slowly and ardently, his tongue slipping gently between her lips as her hands slid up his chest and into his thick white hair, sending a tingling shock like electricity through his body.  When they parted, each was gasping slightly for breath, their hearts racing together, their foreheads lightly touching as they clung to each other.

“I don’t know how much time I have left, Cassandra, but I swear to you that I’ll spend every single second of it making you the happiest woman on this earth,” he murmured softly and fiercely. 

“You already have,” she said happily, burrowing her face into his warm chest.


	16. A Town Called Feud

Cassandra turned and looked up at Jenkins, a tiny, wicked glint in her sky blue eyes. 

“Go ahead,” she challenged.  “Admit it!”  Jenkins smiled with delight. 

“This is _almost_ worth becoming mortal for!” he rumbled as they both turned to face the long, candlelit table, its normal scattering of books, papers and artifacts now replaced by tea and multiple trays full of cakes, cookies, tarts and finger sandwiches.

“High tea in the Annex,” mused the Caretaker wonderingly as he walked around the table, taking in all of the colorful, tasty treats.  Cassandra giggled, greatly pleased with herself. 

“The others can never know about it!” she cautioned him.  “What happens at high tea in the Annex…”

“ _Stays_ in the Annex at high tea,” he finished with a flirtatious note. 

“Exactly!”  She paused a moment before continuing, her words rushing from her mouth and a look of concentration furrowing her brow slightly.  

“So!  Now that I have you here:  Darrington Dare's problem with there being only one Librarian had to do with the Westphalian Brothers who had that falling out in the Fifth Century.  But, I was thinking, what do we really _know_ about them other than that?”  The Librarian lightly patted her hands together as she spoke. 

“I mean, if we could find out the _whole_ truth, and then prove that we would _never_ make the same mistakes that they did, I mean, maybe we could get the others to come around?”  As he listened to her, Jenkins sampled some of the delicacies she had laid out on the tea table, making soft, happy noises as he chewed.  At one point he picked up a sugar cookie, held it up to his nose and inhaled deeply, a look of sheer bliss coming to his face.

“You do know that we archive the personal possessions of all previous Librarians,” he said as he munched on a bite of the cookie.  “I mean, you know, if they...well...corresponded with each other—their _letters_ …”

“Yes!” exclaimed Cassandra excitedly, clapping her hands.

“Yeah, yes,” he mumbled distractedly, plucking a cucumber sandwich from its tray and taking a bite of it.  A look of joy fell over him.  “Mmm-mmm!  As soon as we finish high tea, we're going to the archives…” 

He popped the rest of the sandwich into his mouth and chewed contentedly, his eyes closed as he savored the morsel.

“Oh, Cassandra!” he sighed.  “I have to amend my previous remarks—these cucumber sandwiches alone are worth becoming mortal for!  They’re absolutely perfect!  Oh—do I detect a hint of…dill?”  Cassandra beamed.   

“Yep!” she said, grinning from ear to ear, pleased that Jenkins was pleased.  “Not strictly authentic, I know, but I minced some fresh dill and mixed just a pinch or two into the butter before I spread it on the bread.  And there’s plenty more where that came from, so don’t be shy!” she said as she went across the room to slowly drag a pair of chairs over to the table for them.  When he realized what she was doing, Jenkins hurried over and took the chairs from her, easily lifting and carrying them both over to the table.  He stood behind the one he deemed the more comfortable of the two chairs, inviting Cassandra to be seated.

The young woman took up the teapot and began to pour cups for the both of them, while Jenkins slowly stalked around the table like a hungry tiger, quickly filling two plates with a variety of tea fare for them.  When the plates were full he brought them back, setting one in front of Cassandra and then settling himself into the other chair.

As they enjoyed their food and tea, the pair chatted about small things at first—how Cassandra had made all of the food for the tea herself and how she had been planning this surprise for him ever since she’d returned from Havenport.  She couldn’t help but smile with pride as she sipped her tea and nibbled her food, watching Jenkins dig into his plateful of sweets and sandwiches with gusto.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying everything so much!” she laughed as he threw his head back yet again with an ecstatic expression on his face and a moan of pleasure rumbling deep in his throat when he sampled a homemade chocolate éclair.  Jenkins lowered his head, a wide smile on his chocolate-stained lips.

“Oh, Cassandra!  Everything is absolutely _delicious_!” he raved.  “I had no idea that you were such an accomplished pastry chef!”  Cassandra grinned.

“Thanks!” she said proudly.  “I _love_ baking, there’s a lot more science to it than people think!  For example, did you know that the ground elevation and atmospheric humidity and pressure levels of any given location can greatly affect the quality of flour, and how it reacts with other ingredients?”  Jenkins shook his head as he popped the rest of the éclair into his mouth.

“Indeed?” he mumbled around the mouthful and reached for his teacup.

“Yes!” she answered, her face taking on an excited expression as she continued speaking.  “And not only that, but different _kinds_ of flour each react very differently under the exact same conditions—so if you don’t know what you’re doing, you can end up with a real mess on your hands!”  Jenkins looked up from his tea and gazed steadily at the animated young woman, a look of pure adoration in his warm brown eyes.  Cassandra caught the look and, suddenly bashful, stopped her chattering and dropped her eyes to her own half-full plate.

“Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t get so excited about flour, huh?” she said uncertainly.

“Nonsense!” the Caretaker countered.  “Quite the contrary; I think you should get excited about whatever makes you happy.”  He dropped his own eyes for a moment before glancing up again tentatively.

“Besides, I find it very attractive to see you so excited about flour,” he said, unable to keep a silly grin from spreading across his face. 

Cassandra glanced up at him and grinned in return.  She reached out and laid her hand on his knee, and a warm thrill shot up though his body at her touch.  The Librarian dropped her eyes again and nervously bit her lower lip, a gesture that Jenkins found completely irresistible.  He reached down and seized her hand still on his knee, and in one smooth action pulled her up from her chair and onto his lap.  His long arms slid around her as she squeaked in happy surprise, then pulled her to himself, his lips meeting hers tenderly.  He was delighted to find that she tasted of sugar and tea, and he couldn’t keep himself from laughing softly into her mouth as he kissed her.  She giggled into his in response, then quickly pulled her head away from him, teasing him just as he was about to kiss her again. 

Something fierce and dominating flared to life in his eyes, then.  Jenkins grasped a fistful of the thick, russet curls at the back of her head and pulled her back to him.  He leaned forward in his chair to meet her, kissing her again, hungrily this time.  The quiet grunts that sounded in his throat as he tasted her fanned the smoldering embers of desire within the young Librarian, and she unconsciously mimicked Jenkins by running the fingers of one hand through his hair to the back of his neck and gripped him as she returned his kiss, her full warm lips gently sucking the eclair’s chocolate from his upper lip. 

They finally separated, and each began nuzzling the other’s cheek and neck.  Jenkins nibbled tentatively on her earlobe.  One large hand slid down her back and then up her side, coming to rest on her round, plump breast.  Cassandra hummed softly and snuggled against him, wriggling slowly with pleasure on his lap; she’d always suspected that Jenkins was a “breast man”.  He instinctively started to squeeze the tempting flesh; at the same moment he felt a sudden surge of arousal in his groin. 

Startled by a sensation that he had not felt in decades, and realizing where his hand was resting at that moment, Jenkins roughly pushed Cassandra away, ignominiously dumping the surprised woman onto the floor as he jumped up from the chair, his face turning going crimson in embarrassment.

“ _Cassandra_!” he gasped, hastily adjusting his clothes as he backed a few steps away from her.  “Oh!  I...I’m so _sorry_ , Cassandra!  Please, _please_ , forgive me!  I...I have no idea what came over me!”  He tried to look at her, but he was so mortified by his ungentlemanly behavior that he simply couldn’t force his eyes up. 

It took a moment for the redhead to awkwardly pick herself up from the floor.  Once she got her feet underneath herself again, she smoothed down her skirt self-consciously as she turned to face the flustered Caretaker.

“It’s okay, Jenkins, no harm done,” she said qucikly, feeling somewhat confused by his reaction.  He shook his head vigorously.

“No! No!  It’s _not_ okay!” he protested loudly, almost panic-stricken as he held his hands up in front of him.  “That...that was unpardonable!  I have no right to…put my hands on you…like…like… _that_!  And I am... _so_... _sorry_...!”  Cassandra stepped forward, caught the agitated man’s hands in hers and held onto them.

“It _is_ okay,” she said again, looking him in the eyes, a soft smile of understanding coming to her lips.  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jenkins, I promise!  In fact...I kinda liked it.”  As she held his gaze, he could see that she was telling him the truth; she wasn’t angry, or upset, or offended, or afraid of him.  She truly appeared to be ‘okay’ with what had happened, and Jenkins calmed down.

“I guess I’ve overreacted a bit, haven’t I?” he murmured sheepishly, dropping his eyes to their joined hands.  Cassandra’s smile widened.

“Maybe just a _little_ bit,” she agreed, her tone teasing.  He raised his eyes again and heaved a deep sigh as a lop-sided smirk coming to his face.

“I’m afraid that my courting skills are pretty rusty,” he said.  “Not that I was particularly skilled at courting in the first place, actually.  I don’t know what women expect or want these days, or  what I’m supposed to do or what’s allowed, or not allowed, or…”  Cassandra raised one of her hands to lay her fingers lightly against his lips.

“I know,” she said.  “And it’s _okay_.  This is all pretty new for me, too, don’t forget.”  She stepped closer, so that her body touched his.  “I think we just need to take our time, get to know each other.  And I think this is a good time to propose that we promise each other that if either of us _ever_ feels uncomfortable with something that the other is doing or wants, we’ll speak up and say something?  I’m always hearing that communication is the key to a good relationship—so as long we’re communicating with each other, openly, honestly, we should be able to handle just about anything, right?”

The smirk faded from Jenkins’s face as he considered what she’d just said.  He took her hand and kissed the backs of her fingers, gave it a firm squeeze and then kept his eyes focused it.

“What if I have things to communicate that are…not very pleasant?” he asked hesitantly.  “I’ve lived a very long time.  I’ve…gone places…done things that…I’m not proud of.”

“I know I’ve led a pretty sheltered life, but I’m still not exactly pure as the driven snow, either,” she responded jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a little, but the Caretaker missed it and instead took a deep breath, his eyes still on her hand in his.

“Yes, I know, but, you don’t understand, Cassandra; some of the things _I’ve_ done…” he began.

“It’s not a contest, Jenkins!” she scolded firmly, but not unkindly.  Cassandra moved her head so that she could look up into his downcast eyes.  “It doesn’t matter to me what you’ve done in the past—it doesn’t change how I feel about you.  We’ll talk about it, one day, but let’s not let the past ruin right now, okay?  For now, let’s just focus on ‘right now’, okay?”

The young Librarian pulled both of her hands free and reached up to put her arms around the tall man’s neck.

“And right now, I think I’d like another kiss!”  She gently, insistently pulled his head down and stood on her tip-toes at the same time.  As soon as she could reach him, Cassandra closed her eyes and found his lips.  He was hesitant at first, but as soon as he felt her small, hot tongue brush slowly against his lower lip, all of his misgivings melted away.  He pulled her close and returned her kiss, the exhilarating feelings of a few minutes ago washing over him again like a warm shower.  Again, his hand wandered over her small body, coming to rest for a second time on her breast.  This time he left it there, squeezing it ever so gently for fear of hurting her.  The sensation of her flesh yielding beneath his hand was more intoxicating than any liquor, and again he felt his manhood stirring to life.  Incredibly, he found himself imagining what it would be like to give in to the desire he was feeling for Cassandra, but he quickly shoved those thoughts aside.  It was far too soon for a physical relationship.  Far too soon...

When they finally parted, they leaned weakly against each other for a few moments, each enjoying the feel of the other’s body against their own.  His right hand still lingered on her left breast, and he could feel her heart beating against his palm.

“So—you like my cucumber sandwiches, huh?” she teased him, her tone indicating that she was _not_ talking about cucumber sandwiches.  Jenkins instantly understood her and chortled softly as he nuzzled her hair and gave her breast another timid squeeze.

“Your cucumber sandwiches are _delightful_!” he rumbled happily.

 

* * *

 

“Miss Cillian,” Jenkins said the next day as the pair picked up their quest to find the correspondence of the Westphalian Brothers that they had begun the previous day after high tea.

“Not long ago it seems you agreed with Mr. Dare that there should be only _one_ Librarian, and now it seems you're proactively opposed to the idea; may I ask why?” 

“I love being a Librarian,” she answered reticently.  “I want to _continue_ to be a Librarian, and if there's only one…”  She gave him a dejected look. 

“You know those kids in school who never got picked for sports teams? That was me.  So I just worry that if there's only _one_ position, that I'm…not going to make the cut.  But if we keep the team together, then I'm in!” she explained, then dropped her eyes guiltily. 

“When I say it out loud, it sounds selfish.”  Jenkins came to stand in front of her. 

“Well, if that's the case, then I'm being selfish, too,” he declared.  “Because, quite frankly, I like having all of you around.”  He reached out and took her small hand in his, raised it to his lips and softly kissed it.   

“I like having _you_ around,” he murmured shyly.  “And...I’ve decided that if you do end up being forced to resign and leave the Library—I will resign and go with you.”  Cassandra’s eyes widened as she gaped in astonishment at his words. 

“Jenkins! No!  You can’t!  Not on account of me...!” she protested.  Jenkins laid a hand on her face and smiled sadly. 

“As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t know how much time I have left in this life, but I _do_ know that I want to spend it with you.  Every minute.  And if I have to leave the Library in order to do that, then I will do so, _gladly_.”  The Caretaker leaned down and gently brushed her trembling lips with his.   

“I promise you, Cassandra—you _won’t_ be alone in this,” he said quietly, echoing her own words to him just after he’d become mortal again.  Cassandra blinked her tears back and took a deep breath. 

"The...throne of the sun...the boar, and the ship's wheel...at 11:00 pm…” she said briskly, turning their attentions back to the task at hand.


	17. Some Dude Named Jeff

Cassandra sat up from her reading and yawned, stretching sleepily in the dimly-lit workroom of the Annex.  She glanced over at the clock and saw that it was now going on two o’clock in the morning, and sighed.  Perhaps it was time for her to give up and go to bed.

There was a sudden loud, metallic bang that echoed down the corridor leading to the silent Annex’s front entrance, followed by leisurely footsteps that grew louder with each second.  Cassandra closed the book she had been reading and stood up, waiting expectantly for the late arrival.  She nervously smoothed her clothes and hair, finishing just as Jenkins strolled into the room.  He halted in his tracks the instant he  saw her, a look of surprise and worry coming to his face.

“Cassandra!” he exclaimed.  “What are you doing up so late?  Is everything all right?  Has something happened?”  The Librarian smiled and shook her head, then hurried over to the much taller man, slipped her arms around him.  

“No, nothing’s wrong,” she murmured, snuggling against his warm, broad chest.  He smelled like pizza.  “I just wanted to wait up for you,  that’s all.”  She gave him a quick squeeze and then backed away just enough to see his face.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be out so long, though; I almost missed you!  I was just getting ready to go to bed . ”  Jenkins wound his long arms around the petite redhead and held her close, a smile coming to his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “I would’ve said something, but I had no idea that I would be gone for so many hours.”  The Librarian smiled.

“ So how was the ‘campaign’” she asked.  She heard him suck in a tiny, quick breath.  

“Campaign?” he repeated, sounding confused.  “What campaign?  I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cassandra.”  The young woman laughed and let go on him, backing out of his arms and looking directly into his tired brown eyes. 

“Don’t even try  to hide it , Mr. Jenkins—you’re totally busted!” she crowed  triumphantly .  “Your new ‘bro’, Jeff, called just after you left.  He wanted to ask you to pick up some  Werther’s Originals for his mom and said that you still needed to ‘roll up a bitchin’ character’ to run in the ‘kick-ass campaign’ he had planned for tonight.”  Jenkins closed his eyes and his head fell back, a grin on his face as he listened to Cassandra relay the too-late message.

“Yes, well,” he  chuckled , looking down again into her amused face.  “ I am, indeed, busted, as you say.  I sneaked out to meet my new friends.   Though Jeff needn’ t have worried.  N ot only did I pick up some  Werther’s for his mother, I also picked up some ‘pies’ for everyone, and I ended up being the DM for the evening’s campaign—which, before you ask, ‘ totally kicked ass, dude’, or so I was given to understand by the others at its conclusion.”  Cassandra laughed even harder hearing the normally staid Caretaker using so much slang.  

“Sounds like you had a good time tonight!” she said.  Jenkins smiled down at her again as he wound his arms loosely around her waist.

“I did,” he confirmed brightly.  “It’s been a long time since I got out of the Annex and did something purely social.  It felt… good .”   Cassandra looked up at him, her chin  propped on his breastbone.

“I’m glad,” she said sincerely.  “I’m really happy to see you getting out and engaging in the outside world again.”  

“Indeed,” he agreed, his voice now tinged with somberness.  “It’s good practice for the future, too.   Just in case we have to leave the Library.”  Cassandra’s eyes instantly became sad.

“Jenkins, you don’t  have to leave the Library,” she said, yet again.  Ever since he had first told of his plan to resign his post and go with her should she not be selected to tether with Eve, she had been trying to talk him out of it.

“This is the only home you’ve known for  centuries ; you can’t just leave here and expect to fit into the outside world, just like that!  Remember your trip to the grocery store?”  A  sour look  flitte d across his face at the memory before resuming a more cheerful expression.

“I seem to recall that  you were having a bit of a struggle to live in the ‘ outside world’ when Mr. Carsen first found you,” he reminded her gently.  Cassandra cocked her head and narrowed her eyes.

“So that’s why you want to come with me—because you don’t think I can survive on my own?” she asked, a hint of bitterness in her voice.  Jenkins shook his head 

“No,” he answered softly as he looked down in her fiery blue eyes.  “I want to come with you because  I love you , and I want to be with you, for as long as I can.  I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning, and I want you to be the last thing I see at night before falling asleep.  I don’t want us to be apart,  ever .”  

Cassandra’s expression softened as he spoke, and Jenkins stood back, cupping her small, pale face in both of his large, calloused hands.  He looked deeply into her eyes.

“But mostly, if I’m honest,” he said, his voice deep  now forlorn and pleading.  “I’ll need  you to do all of the grocery shopping for us, because if  I have to wander through that tenth level of Hell again, I will ‘straight up cut someone’, as Jeff says.”

The Librarian blinked at him, confused at first and wondering if she had just heard him correctly.  She saw the teasing sparkle in his dark eyes, and, putting on an offended look, slapped his chest in mock anger.

“Oh, my God, Jenkins!” she yelped.  “You’re awful!”  The Caretaker smiled and wrapped his arms around her again, resting his chin lightly on top of her head. 

“Yes, I am,” he agreed happily.  “I’m  awfully in love with you.”


	18. The Trial of the One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry (not sorry), but even though I tried to stay within canon for this fic, this chapter and the next have taken a hard turn into AU, I'm afraid, cuz, let's face it, the last two eps of Season 4 were less than satisfactory. Hope you enjoy them anyway!

His pain-filled eyes fell on Cassandra.  His beautiful Cassandra.  The _true_ love of his whole, misbegotten life.  Love, sadness and despair engulfed Jenkins as he looked up into her grief-stricken face.  They had only just found each other, how could they be parted by death like this?  How cruel life was!  And how ironic, too:  All this time he’d been afraid of loving her because he knew he would outlive her, but now _he_ was the one about to die.  He’d envisioned them together for many years to come, happy and content and in love.  They would’ve at least had that much more time together!  Now it was too late.

He grasped her forearm weakly, as though by clinging to her he could cling to this life for just a few precious seconds longer.  Darkness began to fall over his vision, numbness filled his body.  The searing pain in his chest was gone now though, oddly, his heart still felt as though it was shattering within him.

“Your _cucumber sandwiches_ —they were worth dying for!” he proclaimed shakily, staring her pointedly in the eyes, hoping to ease his beloved’s pain with a last little bit of bawdy humor.  He wanted his last sight of her to be of her smiling, even just a little.  _The actual cucumber sandwiches were very good, too_ , he thought to himself dazedly as he slipped steadily from this life.  He saw that Cassandra understood the double-entendre, the little inside joke that only they two shared.  A tiny flicker of mirth showed through her misery, and it comforted the dying man for a moment. 

_Oh!  I’m not ready for this_! Jenkins thought despondently.  So much life he’d had already, but he _still_ wasn’t ready to die, not _now_!  Oh, _why_ hadn’t he accepted her offer of a date when she’d asked him a year ago?  He wasn’t ready to leave her, not Cassandra, not yet!  _No!  Please...only a few seconds more…!_

His hand fell limply from her arm as Death finally claimed him.

 

* * *

 

Cassandra sat numbly on the chair, staring blankly at the body of the man she had come to love more than anything else in the world.  In her hands she held the Kiss of Mahakali.  Somehow it had ended up on the stretcher with Jenkins. 

_It must’ve happened when Jake and Ezekiel finally moved him to the lab_ , she thought.  Not that it really mattered.  The Librarian looked down at the dagger, its blade stained with Jenkins’s blood.  She saw in her mind’s eye the hilt sticking out of his chest, the bright red blood blooming across his shirt like a deadly flower.  She heard the cry of pain and surprise, the gasping, his groans.  Saw his eyes gradually dim and glaze over with the coming end of his life.  She still felt his hand gripping her arm, until suddenly—he wasn’t.

Cassandra jumped up from the chair and, with a scream of raw pain and anger, hurled the dagger across the room.  It crashed into a glass-fronted cabinet, the panes shattering and exploding outward to cover the floor.  Several jars inside the cabinet broke as well, their contents spilling onto the floor along with the glass.

She immediately ran over to the damaged cabinet and began to clean up the mess, heedless of the broken glass and scattered roots, berries and dried leaves crackling beneath her feet.  _Jenkins would be furious to see me make such a mess in his lab!_ she thought frantically.  She began to cry softly as she carefully filled one hand with glass shards.  _And he would be so upset to see me acting like this!  He would call it ‘unseemly’..._

Cassandra stopped and slowly dropped her arms as she stood up, letting the handful of glass fall back to the floor.  She stared at the broken cabinet front, spied the bloody dagger.  She slowly, gingerly fished it out and stared at it for a long time, turning the blade over in her fingers. 

_I could use it on myself_ , she thought dully.  _I could be with him in the next life, then.  We’d never have to worry about being separated ever again.  We could finally be together forever—happy.  Just Jenkins and me.  Forever._

She realized what she was thinking and dropped the knife in horror.  She knew without question that Jenkins would _never_ want her to do such a thing, not even for him.  He would be so disappointed in her if he knew!

“I’m sorry!” she whispered miserably.  She wanted to cry again, but forced herself to hold in her tears.  She had to be strong now, she had to keep it together, for Jenkins.  She wouldn’t dishonor his memory by becoming hysterical and out of control.  “I’m sorry, Jenkins!”

She turned and went back to the workbench where Jenkins lay.  Cassandra laid her hand on his arm; it was still warm, but it was much cooler than it had been when they first brought him into the lab.  She looked at his face, wearing a gentle look of peace now.  She brushed his cool cheek with her fingers slowly, stroked his thick, white hair.  What was he feeling when he died?  Had he felt fear in those final moments?  She hoped not.  She hoped with all her heart that he’d been at peace.  Maybe he even saw the bright light that everyone who had had a near-death experience talked about?  Maybe he saw all of his long-lost loved ones, waiting for him and welcoming him home? 

Tears welled and threatened to fall again, but Cassandra still refused to weep.  There was no time for that now, she had work to do.  She had to prepare him. 

Jenkins had mentioned once, a long time ago, when he was still immortal, that in the days before Camelot it had been customary in his homeland to cremate the dead.  With the coming of the Romans and then the Christians, cremation had fallen out of favor, but Jenkins had said that he would’ve preferred the old ways had he died when he should have.  She smiled faintly as she recalled how he had then insisted, with a stern face and a mock seriousness, that if he could today, he wanted to be cremated, and his ashes buried in a proper mound tomb, surrounded by all of his earthly possessions.  Jacob, with a smart-alecky smirk, had then asked Jenkins expected him and Ezekiel should commit ritual suicide so they could accompany the Caretaker’s spirit into the afterlife as his servants.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he’d said, completely deadpan.  “But I _do_ think it would be a nice gesture if you did so anyway.”

Cassandra now took a deep, steadying breath and began to gently undress Jenkins.  She pulled his bow tie out, untucked and unbuttoned his blood-stained shirt, pulled down his suspenders.  She reached gingerly into his trouser pockets to remove anything he had been carrying in them.  From one trouser pocket she pulled out a gold money clip, his handkerchief, a small tin of peppermints, an old vacuum tube and a small twist of copper wiring.  From his other pocket she pulled out another piece of cloth, this one made of silk and brightly colored in green, blue and pink.  She stared dumbly at it for several seconds before she suddenly recognized it as the pocket square she had given him for Christmas four years ago—the first gift she had ever given to him.  He’d looked so pleased when he had opened the box and saw it.  He’d worn it many times since that night, but she had no idea that he’d been carrying it with him every day. 

As the knowledge sank in, the grief and pain that she’d been holding in the last couple of hours finally overcame her resolve.  Her pale face twisted into a mask of sheer misery as she broke into loud, choking sobs that racked her small body.  Clutching the silk square to her chest with both hands, her head fell back and Cassandra wailed, howling like a tormented spirit.  She threw herself across the still body of her beloved, clinging to him as she screamed, her cries echoing off of the walls of the lab and careening down the corridor to the Annex workroom.

 

* * *

 

Eve, Jacob and Ezekiel were scattered listlessly around the workroom, each sunk in their own pool of grief and shock.  Eve tried to distract herself by picking up some of the scattered papers and books from the floor and replacing them on the table, but as soon as she touched the warm wood she immediately saw Jenkins laid out on it, heard him gasping desperately for air and moaning in pain, his final words to them seared into her memory. 

_I may have been immortal, but you all brought me to life!_

Baird jumped when she heard the distant screaming.  She and Ezekiel started to run toward its source, but Jacob stepped in front of them, blocking their access to the corridor that led to the lab.

“Leave her be!” he barked, barely able to get the words out of his throat as he frantically blinked back his own tears.  “Just...leave her be.”  The other two exchanged uneasy glances, but in the end they turned and went back to half-heartedly cleaning up the workroom.

 

* * *

 

Roughly an hour later. Cassandra walked slowly into the workroom, her face wan and tear-stained, her eyes red, her hair and clothes disheveled.  She still had Jenkins’s pocket square in her hands—she was _never_ going to let it out of her sight from now on.  The stricken Librarian looked like a ghost standing in the doorway.  The Guardian and the remaining Librarians stood and faced her, shocked by Cassandra’s appearance.  Ezekiel was closest, and he stepped forward tentatively.

“You all right, Cassandra?” he asked quietly, half-extending his hand towards her.  She turned her glassy eyes onto him.

“I…I…need help,” she said weakly, her voice raw and scratchy with weeping and screaming.  “I can’t…I can’t move him, he’s too big, too heavy.  I can’t move him.”  Yet more tears filled her eyes and slid down her cheeks as she spoke.

“I have to…get him ready.  But I can’t move him, Ezekiel.  I need your help— _please_?”  Her voice quavered and she began to cry again.  Ezequiel hurried to her and put his arms around her as he tried to comfort the distraught woman.  Eve and Jacob rushed to her as well, everyone wrapping their arms around everyone else, trying to comfort each other as much as they were trying to comfort Cassandra as she dissolved into tears.  Eve roughly brushed tears from her eyes as the group broke up.

“We’ll help you, Cassandra,” she said, then gently shepherded the Librarians back down the corridor .  They reluctantly entered the lab, and Eve stopped short when she caught sight of the broken cabinet and the partially undressed body of her friend— _her_ _brother soldier_ — on the workbench.  Baird had seen many soldiers die as a result of combat, but she had never gotten used to the gut-wrenching feeling of failure that came with the burial of one of her own.  A large, sharply painful lump suddenly came to her throat, nearly cutting off her breathing.  Never in a million years did she expect to have to bury Jenkins.  Tough, cynical, wise, gentle, lovable  old Jenkins…

Eve quickly recovered herself and began to briskly issue instructions to the others, letting her military training take over.  Eve was the Guardian, and she was the oldest now; she needed to keep it together, for them.  She would grieve later, when she had the luxury of time for it.  Right now, her Librarians needed her to be strong, especially Cassandra.

“Cass,” she said softly, putting an arm around the sniffling Librarian’s shoulders and guiding her to the nearest chair.  “You sit here; we’ll take care of Jenkins for you.”  Cassandra offered no resistance and said nothing as she sat down, her eyes never leaving the Caretaker’s body.

The Guardian went over to the table to help the boys finish undressing their friend.  Jacob was stone-faced, but his eyes betrayed how upset he was on the inside.  Ezekiel’s face was also expressionless, but tears slipped out and fell down his face as he worked silently with Stone.  Together, the two men soon had Jenkins undressed.  Jake quickly spread a clean towel across Jenkins’s waist to preserve his dignity. 

The three of them were momentarily frozen as they took in the heavily scarred body.  He was marked everywhere with the scars of countless battle wounds and accidental injuries.  Some of the scars bore unequivocal, chilling witness to torture.  There were also tattoos, from many time periods and cultures, the old knight’s body a testimony to the centuries of history that he had lived.

Cassandra stood up and quietly walked over to the table, and stared down at Jenkins.  She had always wondered why he never wore short sleeves, now she knew.  She stretched out one hand and touched a particularly frightening scar on his left forearm.  His skin was cold now.  _How did he get that?_ she wondered silently.  The injury that caused it had to have been terrible to leave a scar like this.  Her eyes then drifted up to the latest injury, still fresh and raw and bloody.  Her lower lip quivered as tears filled her red eyes again.  Eve put her hand on the Librarian’s back to comfort her.

“Cassandra…” she began softly, but the grieving woman didn’t let her finish.

“I don't want to say anything!” she shouted, her voice harsh and raw with grief as she roughly shook off Baird’s hand.  Tears poured down her reddening face, and her voice rose until she was practically screaming again.

“I don't want to be here!” she wailed, twisting Jenkins’s pocket square in her hands furiously. 

“I'm sorry!  I can't be here anymore!”  She wept so hard that she actually gagged, and Eve, alarmed, tried to calm her.

“NO!” the Librarian shrieked back, like a Fury.  “I gave EVERYTHING I had to the Library! I gave it my _love_ , I gave it my trust, _and it took Jenkins!_ And I HATE it!”  Eve tried to hold Cassandra, but she only screamed louder.

“I HATE it! _It took Jenkins!_ I don't trust this place anymore!  IT TOOK JENKINS AND I HATE IT!”  Cassandra finally collapsed into Eve’s arms and sobbed uncontrollably.  Eve was crying by now, too, Ezekiel and Jacob not far behind.  Jones went to stand on the other side of Cassandra as she wept. 

Jacob, angry, frustrated and feeling as though he had lost the only true father the Librarian had ever known, turned away from the huddled mourners.  His eyes fell on a small table loaded down with books, journals and writing implements.  In a blind rage, he ran over to it and swept his arm across the table top, sending its contents flying.  Feeling no relief, he next grabbed the table with both hands and flipped it over with a loud curse.  He was about to turn his attention to a nearby cupboard when Eve ran over to him.

“Stone!  Stop it!  Stop!” she yelled, grabbing his wrists.  “Stop!  Jenkins wouldn’t want this!”

Jacob stopped struggling and looked at the mess.  Baird was right; the old man would’ve been pissed to see such senseless destruction in his lab.  Stone glanced up at Eve, then dropped his eyes again, his arms going limp.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly, tears slipping from one eye.  “Yeah, you’re right.  I’ll take care of it.”  He immediately stooped and began to quickly gather up the scattered books and papers.  Eve turned her attention back to Cassandra and Ezekiel.

“Ezekiel, give Stone a hand with the books, then the two of you wash Jenkins’s body, get him ready,” she asked quietly, then turned to Cassandra.

“Cassandra, let’s go to his room, find a nice suit for him, okay?” she said gently to the weeping Librarian.  Cassandra barely nodded her head, then allowed Eve to guide her slowly out of the lab.

 

* * *

 

The two young men were mostly silent as they worked together to clean the body of their friend, each of them lost in his own thoughts and grief.  Ezekiel put a bandage over the wound made by the Kiss of Mahakali. 

“It just doesn’t seem right to leave it uncovered like that,” he explained to Jake.  Stone only nodded in acknowledgment as he gazed unseeingly at the body.  Jenkins rarely talked about his past, but whenever he let a story or a memory slip out, Jacob had hung on every single word.  He took every opportunity he could to ask the old man thoughtful and intelligent questions, and Stone was always filled with pride whenever Jenkins complimented or praised him for Jake’s insights or knowledge.  Jenkins had even begun giving Jake swordsmanship lessons, something that absolutely thrilled Stone.  Imagine:  Sword-fighting lessons from Sir Galahad himself!  While they had gotten off to a rocky start, Jenkins had slowly warmed up to the inquisitive historian—though he would never say so out loud.  Jacob had come to love, admire and respect the old knight far more than any of his blood kin.

Ezekiel had a different view of Jenkins.  The Caretaker had plainly disliked the thief from the start, but ever since their confrontation during the Conclave, things had changed between them.  Jones had clearly seen the distress on Jenkins’s face as he tried to explain to the Australian why he was walking away from Dulaque.  Jones, who was used to quickly sizing up people and situations, had long suspected that Jenkins was something more than met the eye, a suspicion that was confirmed when the Caretaker finally revealed his true identity.  That day outside the Annex, though, Ezekiel heard the centuries of pain, bitterness and disappointment in Jenkins’s voice, and the thief actually felt sorry for the old man.  He could feel how heavily the years weighed on Jenkins, all the regrets he must have, all the goodbyes he’s had to say over the years.  But something told the younger man that Jenkins wasn’t really a coward; he just needed the right motivation.  He was so relieved that his little parting shot of “ _you’ve_ changed” had worked, and was even _more_ relieved when Jenkins had shown up at the last minute to get Jones out of the trap Dulaque had caught him in.  Since that day, Ezekiel and Jenkins treated each other with respect, with affection even, though both tended to hide that affection by tormenting each other at every opportunity.

Jacob wadded up the towel he’d been using and threw it onto the pile on the floor next to the workbench.  He ran his hand through his shaggy hair and looked over at Jones.

“I guess that’s it,” he said glumly.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Ezekiel agreed quietly.  There was an awkward silence for a moment.

“I guess we should clean up the lab, at least until the girls get back with his clothes,” the Australian offered, and began to pick up the towels.  “You take the cabinet; I’ll take these to the laundry room.”  Jake grunted in response, then went over to the broken cabinet.  He carefully began to pick up the larger shards of glass and dropped them into a nearby wastepaper basket. 

As he moved some books out of his way, a small papyrus scroll fell off its shelf and started to roll across the floor.  Jacob dropped the books and scrambled to catch the scroll before it rolled out of his reach.  He began to set the scroll down with the books when his eye caught a fragment of ancient Egyptian demotic script.  The historian in him, even in this time of mourning, couldn’t resist opening the papyrus.  It turned out to be nothing more than a spell for the reanimation of crocodile mummies.  Stone wrinkled his nose in disgust as he let the scroll roll itself closed.  Leave it to Jenkins to have something completely weird like this in his lab!  The cranky old goat had probably even actually tried the spell out, though what the hell anyone would do with a reanimated crocodile mummy was beyond Stone.

Jake suddenly froze where he stood, the scroll falling from his fingers unheeded. 

Reanimation.  Another word for…

“JONES!” Jacob bellowed, getting to his feet.  Ezekiel, startled by the sudden loud noise, jumped and whirled around, his arms full of dirty, wet towels.

“What the _hell_ , mate?!” he snapped peevishly.  “You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack!”  Ignoring the thief’s reaction, Jake ran over to Jones and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“RESURRECTION!” he shouted, shaking Ezekiel so hard that some of the towels slipped from his arms and fell onto the floor.  Jones simply stared at Jake.

“What?” he yelped irritably.  “What the hell are you talking about?”  Jacob, his eyes wide, waved his hands frantically in front of himself in his excitement.

“Resurrection, Jones!  _Resurrection_!  Don’t you get it?” he babbled.  Seeing only a blank stare on his friend’s face, Stone tried again.

“ _Think_ , dude!  What did we just bring back to the Library a couple of weeks ago, huh?  From the La Brea tar pits?” 

“The Osiris Stone?” Jones answered, a note of confusion in his voice.  Jake slapped him hard on his upper arm.

“ _The Osiris Stone_!” he crowed.  “And what, exactly, does the Osiris Stone do, man?  Huh?  What’s it do?!”  Ezekiel’s eyes blinked, then widened as puzzlement gave way to understanding.

“It brings the dead back to life!” he breathed.  He tossed the towels aside and grabbed Jake’s forearms.  “ _It brings the dead back to life_!  We can bring _Jenkins_ back to life!”

“We can bring Jenkins back to life!” Stone repeated enthusiastically.  “You go get the girls and I’ll get...”

“Wait, wait, wait!” the Aussie said, cutting him off.  “Will it work on him, now, though?  I mean, Jenkins said that no magic could undo what the Kiss of Mahakali had done...” 

“He was talkin’ about _curing_ the wound!” Jake rushed to say.  “He was sayin’ that no magic could _prevent_ him from dyin’, but now he’s dead, right?  The Kiss of Mahakali has done its work, the spells’s done.  The magic of the Kiss—gone!”  He waved his hands vigorously to emphasize his words.

“The Stone of Osiris should be able to work, now, no problem!  At least, that’s the logic _I’m_ goin’ with.  Either way, we won’t know for sure unless we try it, first, am I right?”  A lopsided grin broke out on Ezekiel’s face.

“Sounds like a plan to me, mate!” he agreed.  “I’ll go get Cass and Baird!”  He ran a few steps, then skidded to a halt.  He whirled around to stare, panic-stricken, at Jake.

“Except, I have no bloody idea where Jenkins’s quarters are located!” he said.  Stone turned and gave him a look of exasperation.

“Then _call ‘em_ , man!” he ground out, jabbing a finger at Ezekiel’s jeans.  “Call Baird, she’s always got her phone on her!  Then come give me a hand getting’ some stuff together!”

“Right!” answered Ezekiel, relieved, and frantically dug his phone out of his pocket.

 

* * *

 

Cassandra burst into tears the second she opened Jenkins’s closet and saw all of his beautiful suits, shoes and ties, everything neatly arranged in the immaculately kept space.  She removed the first suit she came to from the rack, wool of dark blue with a fine, gray pinstripe.  Cassandra immediately recognized it as the suit he’d been wearing the very first time they met, four years ago.  The happy memories of that day and of many others flooded her mind.  The grieving Librarian buried her nose into the fabric and breathed deeply—it still carried Jenkins’s scent, a mixture of his spicy cologne and his natural musk.  It was too much for her to bear.  She clutched the suit to her body and sank to the floor, piteously wailing Jenkins’s name into the soft wool coat.  Eve knelt behind her and wrapped her arms around Cassandra, the Guardian fighting back tears as she helplessly tried to comfort the sobbing young woman. 

After several minutes, Baird felt her phone vibrating in her pocket.  _Great_ , she thought angrily.  Why did people always call at the worst possible times?  She almost ignored the phone, but then she thought it might be one of the boys.  She discreetly pulled her phone out and checked the display:  It was Jones.

“Cassandra, Ezekiel’s calling; let me see what he wants real quick,” she murmured softly, then hit the answer button.  As she listened, her jaw fell open and her arm slipped from Cassandra’s thin shoulders.  Sensing that something was up, the Librarian turned to look at Baird, her sobs quietening slightly as she took in the Guardian’s shocked expression.

“ _Jesus Christ_!  Are you sure, Jones?” she gasped.  “Is Jake absolutely sure that’ll work?!”  Cassandra heard Ezekiel’s excited voice on the on other end of the phone, but couldn’t make out the words. 

“Okay, right, got it—we’re on our way!” Eve barked and hung up, shoved her phone back into her pocket.  She looked down at the tear-stained face that was looking up at her expectantly.

“Jake thinks we can bring Jenkins back!” she whispered, trying hard to maintain control of herself.  “With the Osiris Stone!  He thinks we can use it to bring Jenkins back from the dead!”  Hope flashed through the Librarian’s eyes.

“The Osiris Stone?” she whimpered between snuffles.  “Really?”  Eve nodded as she scrambled to her feet.

“Yep!” she said, reaching a hand out to help Cassandra up.  “We need to go meet the boys in the workroom right now!  Come on!”  She hauled Cassandra up from the floor, and together the two of them ran as fast as they could back to the Annex.

 

* * *

 

Jacob rubbed his hands together as he looked around at the semicircle of anxious faces.  He could see hope wanting to take root in all of their eyes, but he also saw fear. 

“Okay, here’s what we got,” he began, trying his best to sound encouraging.  His idea was a longshot, but it was all they had.  “Ancient Egypt.  The Osiris and Isis—powerful magic-users who eventually became gods—are married and rule Egypt.  The land knows peace and prosperity, the people are happy, right?  Set, Osiris’s brother, is jealous of Osiris’s successful rule and his popularity with the people, so Set murders him, chops his body into pieces and scatters ‘em throughout the world.”  Everyone exchanged uneasy glances at the gruesome story, but said nothing as Jacob continued to speak.

“Isis searches the world and finds the parts.  She brings ‘em back to Egypt and binds ‘em all together—creating the first mummy—and with her sister, Nephthys, Isis uses magic to bring Osiris back to life.  She’s _the_ most powerful sorceress on the planet, okay? So she not only brings him back to life, she also makes him _immortal_ so that he can never be killed again!”  Cassandra gasped sharply and her eyes became big as saucers when she heard the word “immortal”.  Eve narrowed her eyes warily.

“Stone, are you saying what I think you’re saying?” she asked.  Jake nodded his head eagerly.

“Yes!” he rasped, eyes glittering.  “I think we can bring Jenkins back, with the Osiris Stone, _and_ —AND—restore his immortality at the same time!”  The remaining Librarians and their Guardian gaped at one another.

“Are you sure, Jake?” asked Cassandra, her voice small and afraid.  “Be honest!”  Stone dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Am I one hundred percent sure?  No.”  He raised his eyes again to look into the redhead’s watery blue ones.  “There’s no guarantee that it’ll work like I think it should.  And it’s dangerous.  We’d be usin’ some big-time magic here, Cass, and I hate like hell that we have to take that route, but—as far as I can see, this is the only shot we have if we want Jenkins back.”

“How dangerous?” snapped Eve.  Jake ran a hand through his hair before shrugging his shoulders.

“Could be fatal,” he growled.  “To one or all of us.  I just don’t know.”  Eve opened her mouth to shut Stone’s plan down before it could go any further, but Cassandra cut her off.

“No, Eve—I want to hear this!” she said sharply.  “If I— _we_ —have any chance of getting Jenkins back, I want to hear about it!  Everything!”  She looked back at Jacob and nodded at him.

“Go on,” she said.  Stone rubbed his stubbled chin and took a breath.

“The full ritual involves recreatin’ Isis’s resurrection of Osiris,” he began to explain.  “When the ancient temples closed in Egypt with the coming of Christianity and Islam, the Library was able to secure most of the religious regalia and magical artifacts they contained.  The last official Temple of Isis, on the island of Philae, was also the last location to house the regalia and the Stone of Osiris before it was finally shut down in the Sixth Century CE.  Ironically, the Librarians at the time were the Westphalian Brothers; one of their very first missions before they split up was to acquire the regalia and artifacts and bring them into the Library for safekeeping.”  He reached over and patted the thick chunk of pale limestone on the table.

“The Osiris Stone itself is all that’s left of the actual mortuary table that Isis laid out Osiris’s body on when she brought him back to life.  It’s _soaked_ with her magic.  The legends say that each time the Stone is used, a portion of it is destroyed as Isis’s magic is pulled from it to resurrect the dead person.  So this might just be _the_ last time the Stone can ever be used, which also ups the ante.  We’re only gonna get one shot at this.”  The historian looked over at Cassandra.

“Cass, you have the closest emotional tie to Jenkins, so you’ll have to take the role of Isis in the ritual.”  Despite the somber circumstances, he chuckled at the startled, guilty look that sprang to her face.

“Yeah, don’t try and deny it,” he chided her with affection.  He waved a hand around at the others.  “It’s about the worst-kept secret in the Library!”  Cassandra glanced nervously at the others.

“He’s right, you know,” said Ezekiel, and he smiled to reassure her.  “We had it figured out a _long_ time ago.  In fact, me and Stone have a bet on when your first snogging session would be, and...OW!”  Jones yelped as Jake punched his arm while glaring at the thief warningly.  The silly horseplay helped to break some of the tension in the room.

“Okay, guys—focus!” said Eve, lightly scolding.  She looked over at the anxious Cassandra and then took her hand, squeezed it.

“If this is as dangerous as Stone says it is, if we’re all going to be putting our lives on the line, then we _all_ have to be on board.”  Baird was in Guardian mode now.  “One ‘no’ vote, and that’s it, we’re done.”  She looked around the group.

“I vote ‘yes’!” blurted Cassandra instantly, her voice cracking. 

“I’m in,” growled Stone.

“Me too,” said Jones carelessly.  “Librarians together and all that!”  Three sets of eyes looked solemnly at Eve.  She took a deep breath.

“Then let’s go get Jenkins!”

 

 

* * *

 

Jake had Ezekiel help him carry out a large, black wooden chest covered with hieroglyphs in gold leaf and a scene depicting the goddesses Isis and Nephthys in the act of mourning over the body of the mummified Osiris.  Stone opened the ancient chest and began removing various articles of pharaonic-era Egyptian clothing and jewelry.  The long, snow-white gowns, woven of fine linen many thousands of years ago, had been preserved magically.  There were also two wigs, also magically preserved, made of black human hair in hundreds of long, tiny braids and threaded with solid gold beads.  He handed one of the gowns to Cassandra.

“You and Baird’ll represent Isis and Nephthys,” he informed them.  “Just put’em on as best you can and then I’ll adjust ‘em later so they’re on correctly.”  He handed Eve the second gown as he spoke, then began to quickly sort the wigs and the various pieces of jewelry into two piles.”

“This stuff is for you to wear, Cass,” he said, laying a hand on a pile of accessories.  “The other’s for Baird.  Put everything on.  Then we’ll do your make-up.”

“Wait,” interrupted Eve, eyeing the large pile of strange items reluctantly.  “Why do we have to do all of this?  At the tar pits, all the Stone had to do was touch the saber-tooth tiger bones and they popped back to life— _poof_!”

“The Stone’s full of residual magical energy,” he explained quickly.  “The tigers were just dumb animals, all they needed to do was come in contact with the Stone.  But an intelligent, thinking creature—like a human being, created in the image of the gods themselves?  You need the full monty for that.  We have to recreate the spell as closely as we can to bring back Jenkins.  That means costumes, chanting, incense—everything.  And we gotta hustle on this.”

“Why?” asked Cassandra, still trying to absorb the idea that Jenkins could actually be brought back to life.

“’Cause we don’t just want Jenkins back, we _need_ him back,” Stone said.  “Baird _still_ has to tether with a Librarian, remember?  The Library stills needs to be tethered to humanity.  Who knows how long we have before the Library decides to play ‘Hunger Games’ with us again?  And Jenkins is the _only_ one who can perform the ceremony.  No one else has a clue how to do it.”  The Librarian’s mouth then twisted in disgust.

“Plus, Nicole Noone is still out there somewhere gunnin’ for us _and_ the Library.  The Horologue is ticking—loud.  So we gotta move, now, otherwise it really _is_ game over!”

“Okay, good pep talk, Stone!” said Eve briskly as she quickly gathered up her new wardrobe.  “We have a plan, we have a deadline.  Let’s go!”

The women went to another room and changed clothes as quickly as they could.  Cassandra was careful to remember to tuck Jenkins’s pocket square inside her dress and next to her skin, beneath the wide, red linen sash that held her dress closed.  Even though Eve was taller than Cassandra, each woman’s nearly transparent dress sized itself to fit each one perfectly.  The wigs and solid gold jewelry were incredibly heavy and cumbersome, but neither complained as they pattered barefoot back to the workroom.  By then, Jake and Ezekiel were also “in costume” as Egyptian priests.  Each wore a knee-length kilt of white linen and a leopard-skin “cloak” fastened over one shoulder.  The women stopped in their tracks, their mouths falling open in shock when they saw that Jake and Ezekiel were now bald.

“What the...?!” breathed Eve, stepping towards the two young men.  Jake nervously ran his hand over his freshly shaven scalp.

“Had to,” he said sheepishly.  “Egyptian priests were bald.  Since me and Jones are representin’ the priests, the hair had to go.” 

“But...your _hair_!” said Eve. 

“That’s what _I_ said!” grumbled Ezekiel, then flashed a brilliant smile.  “Fortunately, I look _just_ as fabulous without hair as I do _with_ hair!  Besides,” the Australian suddenly took on a serious expression.  “If it’ll bring Jenkins back, it’s a small price to pay.”  Cassandra’s eyes watered up as she ran forward, braids tinkling, and threw her arms around Ezekiel first, then Jacob, giving each of them a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you!” she whispered to each man.  As she stepped back from Stone, he cleared his throat and rubbed his chin nervously.

“Yeah, well, let’s get to work!  We ain’t got all day, here,” he barked gruffly, then got busy adjusting the “goddesses” dresses, wigs and make-up.

 

* * *

 

The spell began with the goddesses ritually purifying the body of “Osiris” in preparation for mummification.  Jake and Ezekiel placed the Osiris Stone beneath Jenkins’s head and shoulders, his body resting awkwardly now on the same long workroom table where he had died just hours earlier. 

Eve and Cassandra washed Jenkins’s corpse, this time with water that had a special blend of spices and aromatics mixed into it and that had spells chanted over it.  Cassandra could barely stand to look at Jenkins; he, a knight of the Round Table, always so strong and vigorous and unstoppable—he was supposed to be here forever!  Now he looked so helpless and broken.  She shoved the thoughts away and focused on her part of the ritual.

While they worked, Jake chanted in ancient Egyptian, Ezekiel accompanying him with a small, rattle-like sistrum.  Cassandra hated that Jenkins had to be exposed naked in front of the others; she knew he would’ve been absolutely mortified by that.  But Jake said it was part of the ritual, so she pushed the thought away and again concentrated on the spell.  Like Jake and Ezekiel’s shorn hair, a few minutes of nudity was a small price to pay to bring him back to life and restore his immortality.

When the washing was completed, the women spread a heavy linen sheet over the body, covering it completely.  They didn’t have time to bind the body in linen, like a true mummy.  Jake said that the sheet would have to suffice, representing the mummy bindings.  So long as Jenkins was covered in pure Egyptian linen, that was what counted the most.

Finally, everything was ready for the heart of the spell.  Jake positioned Cassandra at Jenkins’s head, Eve at his feet.  Stone handed them each a sheet of paper containing what looked like a poem.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” he said, facing the group.  “We don’t have time for me to teach you how to pronounce the words in ancient Egyptian, so we’re gonna have to do it in English.  Hopefully it’ll still work. 

“Cassie, you’ll be Isis, Baird’ll be Nephthys.  When I give you the signal, you guys read the parts that are marked out for you, startin’ with Cass.  What we’re basically doin’ is recreating the actual resurrection of Osiris, sort of like sympathetic magic on steroids.  The more you put your emotions into it, the better—the goddesses’ sorrow fueled the original spell, okay, so you gotta do the same, you gotta _really_ sell it.”  He turned to Ezekiel.

“Okay, Jones, you start that incense and keep it goin’,” he instructed the younger man.  Ezekiel took up his position next to the censor and lit the charcoal.  While he did that, Jacob set out a large, brass Japanese bowl gong and its striker.  Lastly, he went around and topped off the oil in the various oil lamps he had arranged and lit earlier around Jenkins’s body.  When he was finished, Jake took up his position at the gong.

“All right, everybody ready?” he asked, blue eyes sweeping the group before him.  All nodded solemnly.  Cassandra looked as though she was going to be sick.

“It’s gonna be all right, Cass, I promise,” he murmured, looking her in the eye, hoping that he could keep that promise.  The Librarian gave him a tiny nod of her head and took a deep breath.

“Remember,” Jake said.  “The more emotion you put into this, the better! If you feel tears comin’ on, let ‘em rip!  Don’t hold back!”

“Not gonna be a problem!” muttered Baird shakily under her breath.  The tension and uncertainly in the stifling air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Stone nodded at Ezekiel, and the Australian dropped a small scoopful of ancient Egyptian kyphi incense into the smoldering coals.  As the heady, spicy smoke filled the room, Jake sounded the gong slowly, three strikes evenly spaced.  As the last strike of the gong faded, he squared his shoulders and took a breath.

  
“Glorify his soul! Show his dead body!” he intoned sonorously, beginning the preface of the spell.

“Praise his spirit! Give breath to his nostrils and to his parched throat!  Give gladness unto the heart of Isis and to that of Nephthys!  Give life, stability and strength to Osiris!  Behold now, Isis speaks—“

He nodded to Cassandra.  She nervously cleared her throat and began to read from the sheet of notebook paper clutched in her trembling hands.

"Come to thy house, come to thy house!  O good husband—“  At the word “husband”, the Librarian’s timorous voice caught in her throat, painful as a fishbone.  Tears sprang to her eyes as the image of a long-cherished dream popped into her mind, of herself, dressed in a beautiful white wedding gown, standing at an altar next to Jenkins, about to exchange vows.  Now that dream might never come true.

“Cass?” Jake murmured anxiously, prodding her along.

“O good husband,” she repeated, her voice croaking as she choked out the words.

“Come to thy house, behold me, I am thy beloved wife!  I am thy sister whom thou loved on earth!  Thou shalt not be parted from me!”

She had to force each word out of her mouth as her grief threatened to overwhelm her.  Her voice grew steadily louder and more strained as she continued to read, tears falling from her eyes and dripping down her cheeks, leaving in their wake trails of the heavy black kohl Jake had used to line her eyes in the ancient Egyptian manner.

“Too long have I not seen thee!  My heart mourns thee, my eyes seek thee!  Good Osiris, shall I not see thee?  Gods and men look for thee together, and weep!”

Tears continued to stream down her cheeks as she read, and fell onto the page in front of her.

“Come to thy wife,” she sobbed.  “Come to thy sister, come to thy mistress!  Behold thou my heart, which grieveth for thee!  I love thee more than all the earth!  _Why_ does thou not hear my voice, though I am thy wife who loved thee?  I cry to the height of heaven, I weep for thee!"

As she reached the end of her first portion of the spell, Cassandra broke down into ragged sobbing.  Tears of sympathy were already falling from Eve’s eyes as she took up the spell.

"O good King, come to thy house!  Thy sisters guard thy bier, we call to thee in tears!  Turn around on thy bier, see the women, speak to us!  Let thy face not shun our faces!  O Osiris, drive all pain from our hearts!  I am Nephthys, thy beloved sister!  I am with thee, thy bodyguard, for eternity!"

Eve nearly lost control of herself as the word “bodyguard” punched her in the gut.  She’d been anything _but_ Jenkins’s bodyguard!  If she had been a _competent_ Guardian, things would _never_ have gotten so completely out of hand as they did.  She should’ve anticipated a reaction from the Library for her trickery, she should’ve been able to save Jenkins!  If only they had listened to him from the beginning, when he tried to warn them about letting Nicole loose, when he begged them to take the tethering more seriously, when he pleaded with them to disregard Darrington Dare’s warning against having more than one Librarian.  _If only they had listened to him!_

"I am thy guard every day,” Cassandra picked up the spell, struggling to maintain enough of her composure to speak the words clearly.  “I will not depart from him!  Thy wife is thy guard, I am the light that guards thee every day, _I will not leave you, ever_!" 

"O good Warrior, come to thy house!” Baird was barely able to see the words in front of her through her tear-blurred vision.  “O good brother, thou shalt not part from her!  She protects thy body, repels thy foes, she will guard thee forever!  O good King, come to thy house!"

The faces of Jake and Ezekiel were wet now, also, and stone-faced as they concentrated on the women’s chants, on keeping the incense going and on keeping time with the gong.  From their vantage point at Jenkins’s side, they could see the Osiris Stone begin to glow through the linen shroud, pale green at first, and growing stronger and brighter as the “goddesses” continued mourning.

"Come to thy house, O my Husband, come to thy house!”  Cassandra began to cry loudly, overcome now by her heartache over the loss of the future she might’ve shared with Jenkins.  “I invoke thee with wailing that reaches high as heaven, yet thou hearest not my voice! Surely thou lovest not another as thou dost love me!  For I love thee more than all that is in earth and heaven!  _I love thee_!” 

“Thy sisters are at thy head and at thy feet, calling upon thee with weeping,” interjected Eve, her voice harsh and rasping.  It was all _her_ fault that Jenkins was laying underneath that damn sheet right now!  “Yet thou art prostrate still upon thy bed!  Hearken unto the beautiful words uttered by us!  Subdue thou every sorrow which is in the hearts of thy sisters!  O strong among men, we come before thee; turn not thou away thy face!  Sweeten our hearts when we behold thee!  Beautify our hearts when we behold thee!  I, Nephthys, thy sister, I love thee!”

“Thy wife calls thee with spells, with great magic that she summons for thee!” Cassandra wailed, her voice raw.  Between her grief, the heat, the choking incense and the heavy weight of her clothing and wig, her head throbbed with pain.  Without thinking she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, smearing the kohl all over her face and hand. 

“With her great magic she restores thy limbs!” she choked out the words.  “With her great magic she restores thy heart!  With her great magic she restores thy head!  With her great magic she restores thy body!  With her great magic she restores thy breath!  With her great magic she restores thy soul!  With her great magic she restores thy life!  With her great magic thy sister restores thy strength, that thou mayest live in happiness for millions of years!”

Cassandra looked hesitantly at Jacob, and he nodded towards Jenkins, encouraging her to perform the final act of the ritual.  She dropped the paper to the floor and gently uncovered her beloved’s pale, still face.  Cassandra had to narrow her eyes against the blinding emerald-green light that shone from beneath Jenkins’s body.  She laid her hands lightly on either side of his face.  Her lower lip trembled visibly with sorrow as she leaned over the end of the table and whispered. 

“With her great magic, thy wife forever reclaims thee from Death!"

Soft as a wisp of smoke, she touched her lips to his cold, lifeless ones in a tender kiss.  As she slowly raised her head, a large tear fell from her cheek and splashed silently onto his lips, then seeped between them and onto his tongue.  Cassandra was suddenly filled with an inexplicable peace and calm that came to her so suddenly that she nearly fainted.  Quickly recovering herself, she stood up to her full height, her head held high.  Something inside told her to raise her arms high in an ancient gesture of welcoming, and delivered the final words of the spell in a powerful, clear voice that sent chills down the spines of her friends.

“BEHOLD!  HE COMES!”

The Osiris Stone exploded in with a flash of blinding, green light, sending shards of sharp limestone in all direction like shrapnel.  With cries of surprise and pain, everyone instinctively turned away and raised their arms to protect their heads.  Cassandra turned back to Jenkins and lowered her arms just in time to see him and the linen shroud burst into turquoise-white flames that nearly reached the ceiling.

“JENKINS!” she shrieked, and reached out to pull the burning sheet off of his body, singing her hands before Ezekiel was able to grab her and pull her away.  “ _Jenkins_!  NO!  Let me go!” she screamed, struggling to free herself.

Everyone watched in stunned horror as the flames enveloped and consumed Jenkins, hiding him from view and scorching the wooden tabletop.  Jacob felt physically sick—this had all been _his_ idea, after all; he’d given the others false hope, especially Cassandra.  He stared miserably at her as she screamed and sobbed hysterically in Jones’s arms, soul-sick at the thought that now they weren’t even going to have any remains to bury. 

Eve was the first to recover her senses.  She raced around the workroom, paying no attention to the painful stones beneath her bare feet, distraught and angry as she looked for something to use to smother the fire before it could spread.  All she could find was a vase of flowers in water on Cassandra’s desk.  She grabbed it, yanking the bright, gerbera daisies out and tossing them away as she rushed back to the table.  Just as she up-ended the vase to dump the water over the place Jenkins’s head had been, the flames suddenly disappeared, like a lit match being blown out.  Laid out on the table was the body of Jenkins, somehow miraculously untouched by the flames, while the table his was laying on was blackened and charred.

The water from the vase splashed directly onto the unscathed face of the Caretaker.  His eyes immediately popped open and, spluttering and coughing, he sat up on the burned tabletop, unaware that he was completely naked as he wiped the brackish water from his face and eyes.  The vase slipped from Eve’s hands and shattered on the floor as she gawked in disbelief.  Jake, Cassandra and Ezekiel also stared in astonishment.

“Colonel _Baird_!” the Caretaker bellowed angrily.  “ _What_ in the name of all that is holy do you think you are doing?!”  He did a double-take, her unusual clothing and kohl-streaked face finally registering with him.

“What on earth are you wearing?” he asked, now utterly dumbfounded.  He looked around and found the others, all similarly dressed, all staring at him with wide, shocked eyes.  As he turned his head back to face Eve again, he caught sight of his bare legs, and realized with horror that he was naked, the linen sheet having been burned up in the magical flames.  His face blanched and he hunched over, quickly covering his genitals with his hands. 

“ _Someone_ had better tell me what the _hell_ is going on, _right now_!” he yelled, his tone suddenly frightened as he looked around at the others wild-eyed.  Cassandra pulled away from Jones, at the same time yanking the fringed linen shawl from her shoulders and began draping it over his waist.  Jenkins gratefully snatched the thin shawl and hastily wrapped it around himself like a bath towel as he slid off of the blackened tabletop.  Cassandra came to stand in front of Jenkins, her quaking hands covering her mouth as tears welled up in her black-rimmed eyes.  Jenkins opened his mouth to say something, then noticed that her hands were red with first-degree burns.

“Oh, Cassandra!” he gasped.  Forgetting his injured dignity, he tucked the shawl in and took her hands in his, gently began to examine them.  “Your hands—they’re burned!  How on earth did you do this?  Are you in pain?”  The young Librarian looked up at him.

“Jenkins?” she whispered, afraid to believe he was truly alive again lest it be nothing more than some wonderful dream or another cruel trick of the Library.

The Caretaker raised his eyes, focusing his attention on her, and he froze.  He stared at her for a moment, overwhelmed now by a feeling of…surprise?  Happiness?  No, it was far more than mere happiness.  He suddenly felt absolutely _ecstatic_ to see Cassandra, though he couldn’t explain why.

What had happened?  He racked his brain trying to remember, but couldn’t quite pin anything down in his fuzzy mind.  He knew it was something awful and pain-filled; something involving Cassandra.  The old man surmised that perhaps something had happened with an artifact—had Cassandra been injured in some way?  He just couldn’t recall.  All he knew for certain was that he was immensely relieved and happy to see her right now.  He had the most unsettling feeling that the pair of them had just been given a second chance, and he felt an even more immense feeling of gratitude for that.

“Cassandra?” he said, his voice unexpectedly choked now with emotion.  His eyes locked onto hers, and, confused by the sense of wonder that flooded him, they stood for several seconds staring at each other.

Before either of them even knew what they were doing, the Librarian and the Caretaker rushed into each other’s arms.  Cassandra threw herself against the man’s body, fresh tears streaming from her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his soft neck and held onto to him as if her very life depended on it.  Jenkins slung his long arms around Cassandra, and as soon as he touched her, he, too, was overtaken by joy.  He lifted her effortlessly from the floor and swung her around, not feeling the sharp stones beneath his bare feet as he stepped on them, repeating her name over and over giddily as tears welled in his closed eyes.  He set her back onto the floor and the two clung to each other, her tears turning into sobs as each buried their face into the other’s neck. 

The others, not wanting to spoil the moment, watched everything in happy silence.  Jenkins was the first to pull away, but only long enough to take Cassandra’s face in his hands.  With no warning he dropped his white head and kissed her passionately, his lips all but devouring hers.  Cassandra made a small whimpering sound of surprise, but quickly relaxed into the kiss, her small hands reaching up to entangle themselves in his thick, silver mane, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Eve, Jake and Ezekiel turned to each other and began exchanging hugs and tearful congratulations, then they slowly gathered around the oblivious couple.  The moment the kiss ended, the reunited pair turned to the rest of the team, a huge grin on the Caretaker’s face.  More hugs and kisses were exchanged and the entire group eventually found itself huddled together, arms tightly wound around each other in a group embrace, everyone soaking in the happiness of having their beloved friend and Caretaker back among them again.  Meanwhile, memories began trickling back into Jenkins’s consciousness.

“I was...” he started to say, then pulled his arm from around Jacob’s shoulders to reach over and touch the place where the Kiss of Mahakali had struck him.  The injury was completely gone, without even a scar left in its place.  “I was...dead?”  Both voice and expression were filled with dismay.  He looked again at Cassandra.

“You held my hand,” he whispered.  “You...you were the last thing I saw.”  He reached out and touched her wet cheek.

“You were crying then, too,” he said dazedly, trying hard to put the jumbled pieces in his head back into a coherent order.  “I seem to bring you nothing but tears, don’t I?”  With a loud cry, Cassandra threw herself into his arms again, clutching him to herself with surprising strength.  She buried her face in his chest and wept, while he slowly wound his arms around her and held her close, trying to comfort her. 

“Hush, Cassandra,” he murmured softly into her clumsy wig.  “Whatever’s happened, it’s all right now!”  He looked up at Eve, his brown eyes imploring.

“What _has_ happened?” he asked.  All he received in answer was three more sets of arms wrapping themselves around him and Cassandra, holding them fast again.

 

* * *

 

The awful memories started drifting back to Jenkins as he showered.  The hot water felt good on his skin, cleansing and restorative, while the moist air filling his lungs felt like it was purging his insides of something stale and fetid.  He would like to have spent much longer under the soothing stream of water, but time _was_ against them.

After the final crushing group hug, Eve and the Librarians quickly explained to him what happened, and all that still lay before them.  Jenkins had listened, astounded, to their story; he couldn’t remember much of anything then, just vague, cloudy impressions of danger, fear and anguish.  But as time passed, the clouded memories rapidly became clearer and horribly sharp.  He remembered being trapped in his own body by the Library, helplessly bound as the unhinged entity used his body and voice to torture and taunt Eve and the Librarians.  He remembered being rescued by the Guardian and brought back safely to the Annex with the others, of feeling tremendous relief and joy at having beat the Library at its own game.  He remembered the chilling feeling of dread as the Back Door opened and he saw the Harness flying at him like the claw of some giant bird of prey, felt the pain of the dagger as it sliced into his mortal heart.  He remembered the feeling of panic and despair as he realized he was going to die soon— _too_ soon!  He remembered the tears on Cassandra’s face, the feel of her hand as she clung to his arm.  The darkness that enveloped him as he slid, at last, from this world to the next.  He knew that he had caught a glimpse of that next world, but he couldn’t remember anything specific.  The next thing he knew, cold water that smelled of rotting vegetation was being poured over his face. 

He stepped out of the shower and slipped into a thick, warm robe.  He scrubbed his wet hair with a towel as he opened the door and stepped into his bedroom.  Jenkins stopped short with a surprised gasp when he saw Cassandra perched on the edge of his bed.  She, too, had taken a quick shower and changed into a clean outfit before rushing back to the Annex and making her way to Jenkins’s private quarters.

“Jenkins!” she squeaked, popping up from the bed like a jack-in-the-box.  “Hi! Um...I didn’t mean to scare you or anything!  I know you don’t like to be disturbed when you’re in your room, and I hope you don’t mind me letting myself in to wait for you but...I just wanted to talk to you alone, privately, before we get too busy with everything else and I don’t get the chance.,,,”  The words tumbled out her mouth, her long red curls bouncing as she nervously wrung her hands and waved them in front of her.

Jenkins dropped the towel onto the floor and crossed the room in a few quick strides.  While she was still speaking, he swept Cassandra into his arms, one hand sliding up her neck to the back of her head, smoothly pulling her forward so that he could kiss her.  It was brief, but ardent, his teeth gently nipping her full lower lip before his tongue darted between her lips to steal a small taste of her.  He then bent down so he could rub his weathered cheek against her smooth one, nuzzling her temple and lightly peppering her ear and jaw with tiny kisses, a low rumble of desire in his throat.

“If we weren’t so pressed for time right now, I would throw you onto that bed and…”  He caught himself just in time.  He let go of her and straightened upright so that he could see her face and smiled bashfully.  “Well, never mind that now.”  He brushed his fingertips down her face as she blushed and looked down, smiling.

“I’m so happy to have you back!” he said.  Cassandra beamed as she blinked against the tears coming to her eyes.  She pressed herself against his broad, warm chest.  He smelled of fresh soap and cotton, and she could feel his heart pounding robustly against her ear.

“I’m so happy to have _you_ back!” she exclaimed.  “I thought I’d lost you forever!  I thought I’d never see you again!  I…”  She stopped and pulled away from him, looked up into his beautiful brown eyes.

“Have you remembered anything yet?” she asked, almost fearful of the answer.  He nodded.

“Yes, it’s all starting to come back now,” he said, then shuddered as memories of the Trial of the One came to mind again.  “Though I wish I could forget a great deal of it!  The Trial itself, for example, being locked inside my own body while the Library did those despicable things to you!  Hearing its insane rantings and thoughts and not being able to…”  Jenkins started suddenly, his face going slack, his eyes becoming distant and filled with shocked alarm.

“Jenkins, what is it?” she asked, frightened by the look on his face.  He turned his eyes onto her and blinked, as if he hadn’t expected to see her there.  He grabbed her shoulders and squeezed them painfully.

“Cassandra, go and gather the others,” he ordered her sharply.  “Have everyone gather in the workroom; I’ll be there as soon as I’m dressed!”  He released her and headed for his dressing room.  The Librarian turned and started to follow him.

“Jenkins, what’s wrong?” she pleaded, even more frightened now.  “What’s going on?”  The Caretaker stopped and whirled around, causing Cassandra to nearly crash into him.

“I’ll explain in the workroom,” he said brusquely.  “We have even less time than I thought and we need to make plans!”  He turned and started for the dressing room again.

“What plans?  What’re you talking about?” Cassandra asked, confused and becoming frightened.  Jenkins called out loudly over his shoulder as he disappeared into the other room.

“Cassandra, _please_!  Hurry and get the others, _now_!  Miss Noone will be here at any moment!”


	19. The Echoes of Memory

Cassandra gathered everyone into the workroom and they all waited there anxiously for Jenkins.  When he finally arrived a few minutes later, he looked very much like the immortal Caretaker they had always known:  Nattily-dressed, hair perfectly combed into place, and a look of steely determination in his dark brown eyes.  He took up his accustomed place behind his high oaken desk, waved the others to come in closer, and he began his story.  The Guardian and the Librarians stared at Jenkins, aghast as he quickly shared his experiences with them of being possessed by the Library.

“The Library was in total control of my physical body,” he said, winding his tale down.  “But I was still conscious of what was happening around me—I saw and heard the terrible things the Library did to you all, and I am so very sorry for being the face and voice of such brutal tortures!”  He paused for a moment to regain his composure before continuing. 

“I was aware of what the Library was thinking and feeling the entire time,” he restated.  “I shared _all_ of its thoughts.  The Library has known for a very long time what Miss Noone was planning to do.  While she was imprisoned in the dungeons below, it heard her speaking about it, gloating about her plans out loud to herself—even directly addressing the Library on occasion.  Once Miss Noone was freed, however, the Library was _terrified_ of her, it was absolutely _desperate_ for Colonel Baird to tether with a Librarian before the Equinox, because it knew that it would be at Miss Noone’s mercy if a tethering didn’t take place by then.  That’s why it possessed me in the first place, and tricked you all to Trial grounds.”  Jenkins took a deep breath and exhaled it as he looked around at the anxious faces. 

“In its own, albeit ill-conceived, way,” he said.  “The Library was trying to save all of _us_ as much as it was trying to save itself.”  Jacob snorted angrily.

“Yeah, and the best way to _save_ you was to _kill_ you?!” he snarled.  “If the Library knew what was gonna happen, why couldn’t it take steps to stop her?”  Jenkins held up his hand to cut short any further protests.

“I understand your anger, Mr. Stone, believe me,” he said, his voice becoming stern, almost cold in its severity as he stared into Stone’s eyes.  “But the Library _did_ try to stop Miss Noone—by having her captured and imprisoned in the dungeons, where she could be closely monitored and guarded, day and night!  An action I believe you yourself strongly disagreed with, if I recall correctly, Mr. Stone.”  Jenkins’s tone became indignant as he ticked off a list on his fingers.

“I _tried_ to warn all of you about the dangers of releasing Miss Noone, warned him that she was vindictive and manipulative.  I _tried_ to impress on all of you the importance of the Tethering Ceremony and need to take it more seriously.”  Jenkins waved a hand to take in the small group before him.

“When Mr. Carsen disappeared, I urged you _all_ to make a decision from the very beginning as to who among you would tether with her in his place.  I warned all of you about what would happen if the Library became untethered from humanity.  You failed to heed my warnings, and so the Library felt it had no other recourse than to take matters into its own hands.” 

Jenkins finally fell silent, and the others looked around at each other with more than a little discomfiture and guilt.  Eve took a deep breath and looked at Jenkins.

“You’re right, Jenkins, about everything.  Points taken,” she said quietly, and the others nodded silently in agreement.  “But what about now?  Why do you say that Nicole is coming to the Library now?”  The Caretaker leaned forward, his brow furrowing as he began to fill them in.

“After spending so much time and energy trying to sow doubt and discord between Mr. Carsen and Colonel Baird in regards to tethering to the Library, and in everyone else in regards to the trustworthiness of the Library itself, Miss Noone knew that she had to do something drastic to break your trust in the goodness of the Library.  She gambled that I could be tricked into giving up my immortality and then killed, that was her best case scenario.  If Mr. Carsen’s supposed resignation and abandonment of the Library didn’t do the job, then she gambled that my death would instantly destroy any belief and trust in the Library that you may have been holding onto.”  Jenkins took a deep breath and sighed.

“She knew that the Library would choose one of its most terrifying artifacts in order to try and bully you into complying with its demands.  She and the Library also knew that you do _anything_ to keep me from being killed, even if that meant sacrificing your own lives.  Whether by death or resignation, she had to ensure that there would be _no_ Librarian to tether with Eve by the time of the Equinox.  She was determined to do whatever it took to prevent a tethering from taking place in order to bring the Library down and plunge the world into a new Dark Ages.  Her only miscalculation was to not anticipate you using an artifact to resurrect me once the Kiss of Mahakali had done its work.”  His expression softened as he turned his gaze onto Cassandra.

“And while I believe that the _Library_ knew how strongly and deeply Cassandra loved me, I can almost guarantee one hundred percent that Miss Noone did not, and _that_ is where _we_ take control of this situation.”  The mood within the little group changed suddenly from one of bewilderment and despair to one of hope and confidence.  Jake clapped his hands together in anticipation and leaned forward, eager to hear what Jenkins was going to say next.

“You got a plan, brother?” he asked, blue eyes shining.  Jenkins smiled, like a panther preparing to pounce on his prey.

“I do, indeed, Mr. Stone!  Guardian, Librarians—gather around, please,” he rumbled.

 

* * *

 

The tiny, somber procession entered the workroom.  Cassandra was leading the way, her hands clutching a simple funeral urn and its stand in front of her.  As tears fell silently down her face, she carried the large, heavy brass vessel across the room to where Jenkins’s orderly desk stood.  She gently, tenderly placed the urn on it.  The stand was emblazoned on the front with a small, simple epitaph in gold letters:  _Jenkins, Our Friend_.

Cassandra stood back from the desk, her face the very image of heartbreak and grief.  Ezekiel, Eve and Jacob came to stand solemnly next to her as she stared miserably at the urn.

“Cassandra,” said Eve softly as she put her hand on the younger woman’s back.  “Would you like to say a few words?”  The Librarian began to cry.

“I don't want to say anything!” she cried out, suddenly angry.  “We did what we were supposed to!  We played the game just like the Library wanted us to, and we beat it!”  Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed, her voice rising to a shrill shriek.

“The Library cheated,” Ezekiel muttered hotly, staring at the urn.  “And Jenkins paid for it with his life.”

“It changed the rules,” added Jake, his face hard as he struggled to remain emotionless.  Cassandra had no such desire.

“I gave everything I had to the Library—my love, my trust, my support— _everything_!” she shouted raggedly, tears pouring down her pale cheeks.  “I _trusted_ the Library and supported it, even when everyone else had doubts!  And _still_ it took Jenkins from me! I hate the Library!  I _hate_ it! _I hate it!_ _It took Jenkins away from me…!”_   Her knees gave way and she began to fall to the floor.  Ezekiel and Eve caught her and held her up, murmuring as they tried to comfort and encourage her.

“ _I don't trust this place anymore_!” she screamed, throwing her head back as she addressed the Library.  “You took Jenkins away from me!  You’re _EVIL_!  And I _HATE_ you!”

Cassandra whirled around and pulled herself free of Ezekiel and Eve.  She marched over to her desk, snatched up a piece of paper and a pen and hastily scrawled out a handful of words, repeating them aloud for the benefit of the others as she wrote.

_“I, Cassandra Cillian, hereby resign from the post of Librarian!”_

She signed it, folded it in half and rushed back to Jenkins’s desk.  She took a moment to compose herself, for the sake of her beloved, then laid her resignation on the desk next to the urn.  With one last, lingering farewell look at Jenkins, she turned and ran from the room.

Jake and Ezekiel followed suit.  Each man went to his desk and wrote out his own resignation.

_“I, Jacob Stone, hereby resign from the post of Librarian.”_

_“I, Ezekiel Jones, hereby resign from the post of Librarian.”_

Jake folded his resignation and laid it on Cassandra’s, then quickly kissed his fingers and tapped the urn in farewell before he, too, turned and left.  Ezekiel gave a tiny bob of his head as he turned in his resignation, a final sign of his respect for the old knight, then he left the Library as well.

Eve watched, stone-faced, as one by one the only remaining Librarians in the world abandoned her.  After a few moments, in frustration and mounting despair, she picked up the Eye of Ampyx and looked at it, as if it could tell her what to do now.  As she turned around, she caught sight of herself in the Library’s magic mirror.  With a cry of anguish, she hurled the Eye at the mirror, shattering the antique glass completely.

She walked over and stared at the broken shards, silvered glass crunching beneath her feet. Baird suddenly became aware of the presence of another.  Raising her head, she found herself looking straight into the cold, serpent-like eyes of Nicole Noone.  The immortal Guardian was dressed in a sleeveless, deep burgundy-colored dress with a thigh-high slit on the left side, her blonde hair perfectly, chicly coiffed.  She stared Eve in the eyes, a slight smirk on her lips as she stepped closer to the taller woman.

"That's seven years' bad luck,” Nicole cooed smugly.

“No!” gasped the shocked Guardian.  “ _How_?”

“How? Who? What? Where? When? Why?” sneered Noone.  “Ohhhh, look at your poor little face!”  Triumph flashed in her eyes as Eve, stressed beyond all levels of human tolerance, tried to fight back her mounting tears.

“This was you?” she whimpered in dismay, her voice cracking.

“This has all, _always_ , been me,” she boasted smoothly.  “Flynn's resignation; Jenkins's death; and now, the end of the Library itself.”  With an angry cry, Eve grabbed Nicole by the arms and swung her around.  Nicole only laughed at the Guardian’s impotent rage.

“Oh!  Come _on_ , Eve!” she jeered, pulling herself free.  “You think I came here to fight? Look at how I'm dressed!  Please, you're creasing the couture...”  She jerked herself free of Eve.

“Tell me what you've done!” ground out Eve, ignoring the other woman’s taunts.

“Why should I?”

“Because—I am on the edge, and you do _not_ want to push me any further!” Baird threatened.  Nicole gave her a lopsided smirk.

“You know, you _actually_ look like you could kill me!”  Noone tilted her head slightly, her eyes widening in mock fear.

“Please, don't hurt me!” she whimpered childishly.  “I'm just a poor, weak, little—”  She suddenly grabbed  Eve’s arms and shoved her to the floor as she yelled at her.  “— _five hundred-year-old_ Guardian!” 

“I don't know what you're doing, but...” Eve said as she got to her feet.

“No, no, you don't,” interrupted Nicole sharply, walking over to Baird.  “You never have!”

“Nicole, I will stop you!” said Baird.

“Stop me?” scoffed the smaller woman as she walked around to the end of the long workroom table, its surfaced covered with stacks of books, papers, maps, artifacts.  There also a large, cube-shaped box made of cedar wood and covered in carved ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, sitting in the middle of the table that Nicole couldn’t remember seeing in the Library before.  Doubtless it was some new artifact those ragamuffin Librarians had somehow managed to retrieve before everything went to hell in the proverbial handbasket.  She reached out one hand to drag it idly across the lid of the box.

“You've been _helping_ me!” Nicole continued, turning her full attention back onto her adversary.  “I could _never_ have tricked Jenkins into turning mortal if it weren't for you!  Jenkins could never have _died_ if it weren't for you.  He was right about me all along!”

“You were gathering artifacts to attack the Library!” Eve gasped, her hand going to her mouth in horror as she began to realize the enormity of Noone’s lust for vengeance.

“No, I was gathering artifacts to make it _look_ like I was attacking the Library, to _force_ Jenkins to imprison me,” the former Guardian gloated.  “I knew the maintenance schedule for that church in Italy, I knew the map would be uncovered in exactly 100 years.  I knew that you'd need my help.  And when Flynn discovered my imprisonment, I knew he would begin to question the legitimacy of the Library and his doubt would be... _infectious_.”

“You planted the map to the cornerstone,” Eve accused her. 

“One of the great advantages of being from the future,” Nicole confirmed, walking across the room to what used to be Jacob’s desk, then back toward Eve.  “I knew exactly where to leave it in order to attract the attention of the Heretic Order of Shadows.  I used them just as I used you, and Flynn, and Jenkins!  And when I saved the day, you believed me to be innocent of the crimes against the Library.  And so the seeds of doubt and distrust were sown.”

“You could have destroyed the Library then; why didn't you?” asked Baird.

“The Library's existence depends on Man's belief in it,” Noone answered freely.  “It's their faith in it that gives it life.”  She turned around and picked up the Librarians’ resignations and waved them at Eve.

“But make every Librarian quit—if you want to destroy the Library, you must destroy Man's belief in it.”

“That's why you didn't kill them,” whispered Eve.  “You had to break them...”

“They say you can kill a man, but you can't kill an idea,” said Nicole.  She stepped forward to stand directly in front of Eve.

“ _I_ proved the contrary!  _I_ set in motion a series of events that did just that.  _I_ killed the idea of the Library!  _I’ve killed the Library itself_!”

“Where's Flynn?” Eve demanded.  Nicole smiled and walked past Eve and back along the edge of the worktable.

“ _You're_ his Guardian, his...immortal tethering partner; shouldn't _you_ know where he is?”  She turned to face Baird.  “Unless...Ooh, did you drop the ball _again_?”

“Where is Flynn?” Eve repeated angrily.  Nicole turned, shrugged slightly, then began to slowly walk toward Baird.

“He's my guest.  Sort of.  Put it this way: He's in no position to refuse my hospitality.”  Eve took several steps toward the insufferable woman, mentally preparing herself to beat Flynn’s location out of her.  A deep, rumbling voice from the doorway stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Enough!  We don’t have time for this, Colonel; I suspect that Miss Noone would sooner die than divulge Mr. Carsen’s location to us.  We’ll need to use other means to get that information.” 

The ex-Guardian’s head whipped around toward the source of the voice, her jaw dropping as she saw a very much alive Jenkins step forward from the shadows and approach them, his hands clasped loosely in front of him.

“ _Jenkins_!” she gasped in complete shock, much to Eve’s delight.  “How...?”  She turned to look back at Eve.  “But I know for a fact that the Library used the Kiss of Mahakali!  There’s _no way_ you could’ve survived the Kiss of Mahakali!”

“And, indeed, I did _not_ survive,” spat the Caretaker, his voice cold as ice.  “Thanks to your treachery, Miss Noone, _I died_ , right here, on _this_ very table!”  He slammed his hand on the table separating them, his burning eyes never leaving hers.

“It surprises me, I must confess—to have worked in an institution like the Library for so long, and yet to forget _what_ , exactly, it houses?” he said acidly.  “Your obsession with revenge has either completely blinded you or made you incredibly stupid!  I haven’t yet decided which.”

“An artifact!  You used an artifact to bring him back to life!” she exclaimed, her voice betraying uncertainty and fear for the first time.  She looked accusatorily at Eve.  “But _how_?  The Library possesses _nothing_ that will do that!  Even if it did, your pathetic little Librarians wouldn’t know how to use it properly!  Only Flynn would have the knowledge and experience for that!” 

“Actually, the Library _does_ possess something that will do that,” said Eve, smiling.  “The Osiris Stone.”  Nicole caught Jenkins’s eyes glancing nervously at the carved box on the table.

“And we made it work just fine, darlin’!” a new voice growled on Noone’s left.  She snapped her head around to find the bald-pated Jacob Stone standing a few feet from her, a granite-faced Cassandra standing next to him.  Nicole turned and recognized Ezekiel Jones, also missing his hair now, guarding her rear.  They had her completely hemmed in against the worktable.

“What’s going on?” she demanded angrily of Eve.  “They resigned!  I heard them!  They’re no longer Librarians!”  Jenkins snorted and chuckled humorlessly on the other side of the table.

“It’s called ‘deception’, Nicole—something you know all about!”  Baird said as she stepped back and snatched the Librarians’ resignations off of Jenkins’s desk.  She opened them and held up each one; they were all blank.

“We knew you were coming, Nicole,” said the Guardian, her blue eyes glowing in triumph.  “So we borrowed a page from your own playbook, and _we_ set a trap, for _you_!” 

Before Nicole could respond, Jake darted forward, pulling a length of shimmering silver cord with a loop at one end from inside of his shirt.  He threw it like a lasso around the former Guardian’s body and tightened the loop hard as she struggled to escape.

“What is this?!” she hissed furiously, and Jake grinned.

“You ever hear of Wonder Woman and her ‘lasso of truth’?” he asked.  “That’s based on a real artifact—the Cincture of Veritas, the Roman goddess of Truth.  Anyone bound by it can be asked only one question, but they have to answer that one question, absolutely truthfully, or they’ll pay the price.”

“What price?” Noone snarled.

“You’ll be struck blind, deaf and mute, permanently.  So you can never bear false witness to anything ever again for the rest of your life,” the Librarian answered, almost with glee. 

“Now, why don’t you tell us, darlin’:  _Where_ is Flynn Carsen right now?” demanded Stone.  Nicole glared at him, hate and fear in her eyes as she hesitated to answer, and he gave the cord a hard yank.  It began to glow hotly as she considered lying to them or simply refusing to answer at all.  She felt a burning sensation begin to tickle her throat, eyes and ears.

“Tell us!”

“He’s in the Springfield Psychiatric Hospital in Portland!” she shouted, afraid to risk it in the end.  “I used a potion on him so that they would think he’s a catatonic and had him admitted as a patient!  He’s still there, safe and sound!”  Jake grinned and looked at the others.

“And that’s how Librarians do it!” he said, unable resist a fist pump.  As soon as he was holding onto the cord with only one hand, Nicole threw her body backwards, jerking it free from his hand.  She quickly threw the cord off of her, then turned and rushed at Cassandra, jerking the small redhead forward by her arm and spinning around with her so that Cassandra was now in front of Nicole as a shield.  At the same time, Nicole whipped the skirt of her dress around and drew a small knife from the sheath strapped to her right thigh and held the razor-sharp blade to the Librarian’s throat.  Noone turned them both around to face the others, at the same time moving them both backwards out of everyone’s reach.

“Stop!  All of you!” she shouted as Cassandra cried out in pain.  “Or I’ll slash her throat open from ear to ear!”  Everyone froze where they were. 

“All of you—get on the other side of the table, with Jenkins, _now_!” she ordered, and the others obeyed, afraid for Cassandra’s safety.  Eve and Jake exchanged worried glances, but there was nothing they could do for the moment.  As soon as she had the worktable between herself and the enemy, Noone relaxed a bit.

“Now, I want to know what’s in that box that Jenkins is so worried about,” she snapped.  The Caretaker and the others exchanged quick, concerned looks. 

“What is it?!” Nicole barked sharply, pushing the blade even more deeply into Cassandra’s neck, causing her to cry out again.  Jenkins started toward them, his face angry.

“Jenkins, no!” the redhead cried, one hand clutching Noone’s arm.  He stopped, held his hands up.  The former Guardian caught the look in his eyes.  It was more than just concern for the Librarian’s safety.  It was—affection?  _Love_?  She laughed at the realization.  This old fool was actually _in love_ with this girl!

“Good boy,” Nicole cooed menacingly.  “You’ll do well to do exactly as I say if you don’t want me to paint the Annex walls with your little girlfriend’s blood.”  She laughed as she was rewarded with a startled look of guilt and embarrassment that came to Jenkins’s face.  She nodded at the box on the table.

“What’s in that box?” she asked.  His face once again unreadable, Jenkins merely shrugged.

“Only a minor artifact,” he said, a little too carelessly.  Noone snorted.

“ _What_ artifact?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes.  Jenkins hesitated a moment, then his shoulders slumped in surrender.

“What’s left of the Osiris Stone,” he murmured.  Nicole cocked her head, surprised.

“Indeed?” she said.  “That’s hardly a ‘minor’ artifact!  What are you _not_ telling me?”  When no one answered immediately, she pressed the knife into Cassandra’s throat again threateningly.

“All right!  All right!” Eve interjected, holding her hand out in a gesture that begged Nicole to stop. She looked back at the Caretaker.  “Tell her, Jenkins!  Tell her everything!”

“The Osiris Stone, Miss Noone,” Jenkins replied icily, “Brings the dead back to life, but it also has the power to grant immortality as well.”  Noone looked confused for a moment.

“You didn’t automatically regain your immortality when you were brought back to life?” she asked suspiciously, and Jenkins shook his white head.

“No.  A different ceremony must be performed for me to regain immortality, and I expect that _that_ ceremony will completely use up what little is left of the Stone.”  An evil smile spread across the ex-Guardian’s face.

“No wonder you’re so nervous, then,” she purred, tightening her arm across Cassandra to hold her even more firmly.  “Tell me, Jenkins, which do you want more:  Immortality, or the life of your little Librarian tart, here?  Hmmm?”  She shook her hostage to make her point.

“Choose, Caretaker!  If you choose immortality, I’ll kill her.  If you choose her, I’ll take the Osiris Stone!”

“The Stone is no good to you, Nicole!” said Eve Baird.  “You’re already immortal, why would you want it?”

“You should know, Miss Noone, that the Stone can only be used by one who possesses as deep and pure a love as Isis had for Osiris,” rumbled the knight cautiously.  His brown eyes softened as they flicked briefly to look at Cassandra while he continued to speak to Nicole.  “The Stone would be absolutely useless to you, as that is something you know nothing about, unfortunately.”

“I _did_ know that kind of love!” Nicole shouted, adjusting her grips on the knife and Cassandra.  “I knew that kind of love once, with Flynn!  But he abandoned me!  He left me to die in the past!”

“He thought you were dead, Nicole!” said Eve quietly, urgently.  “Why would he go looking for someone he thought was dead?  He didn’t know you were only sent back to the past!”

“He should’ve _checked_!  Just to make certain!” the infuriated Guardian yelled.  “He didn’t even _bother_ to check!  This damn Library was more important to him that I was!  He chose _it_ over me; so be it!  But now he pays for the choice he’s made when I destroy the Library he loves so damn much!”  She pressed the blade of her knife into Cassandra’s neck, its sharp edge biting into her skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood and a fearful gasp from the Librarian. 

“And don’t think _you’ve_ beaten me just yet, either, Galahad!  Now _you_ choose!” she hissed savagely.  “Your Librarian’s life, or yours!  Choose hers, and I’ll destroy what’s left of the Stone so that _you_ can never be immortal again!”

“No, Jenkins, don’t!” Cassandra pleaded in a quavering voice.  “Keep the Stone, be immortal again!  Save Flynn, and the Library!  She’ll kill me anyway, Jenkins, you _know_ she will!  Don’t let her win!”

“Choose!” yelled Noone, drawing the knife just enough to make Cassandra scream. 

“No!” Jenkins bellowed, his eyes widening in fear.  “Take the Stone!”

“Jenkins, don’t!” cried Cassandra, but it was too late.  The old Caretaker looked into her eyes sadly.

“I can’t take the risk, Cassandra,” he said quietly.  “I would sacrifice anything to keep you safe, including my own life.”  He looked back at Nicole, and his eyes instantly hardened.

“Take it,” he growled.  “Take the Stone and release Cassandra!”

“Not so fast,” said Nicole.  “Knowing you lot, this is probably a trick.”  She nodded at the box on the table.

“Turn the box around on the table— _slowly_!” she instructed, still holding onto the Librarian tightly.  “Open the lid so that I can see the Stone.  Then, I’ll think about releasing her.”

Taking a deep breath, Jenkins slowly stretched his arms out and took hold of the wooden box.  He turned it around, careful to make no sudden moves, so that the front of the box now faced Noone. 

“Open it,” she commanded, adjusting her grip on Cassandra, preparing to cut the younger woman’s throat on the spot if this indeed turn out to be a trick.  Cassandra sucked in a lungful of air and held her breath, squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

Jenkins looked down at the box and grasped the front of the lid with both hands.  He looked up at Nicole with cold, narrowed eyes.

“As you wish, Miss Noone.”

She immediately realized that this _was_ a trick, another trap they had laid for her, but it was too late.  Before Nicole could react, Jenkins quickly lifted the lid of the box, revealing the severed head of Medusa the Gorgon.  As soon as the head was exposed, the snakes that now served as the ancient priestess’s hair sprang to life, hissing and writhing angrily.  The eyes of the Gorgon snapped open and glowed an eerie greenish-yellow as they caught sight of the horrified Guardian. 

“ _NO_!” Nicole screamed, terror-stricken.  Determined to achieve at least some part of her long-planned vengeance, she began to pull the knife down and into the artery in Cassandra’s neck, but before she could even tighten her fingers around the handle of the weapon, her hand and arm hardened into a grayish, smooth stone that resembled polished basalt.  The rest of the Guardian’s body rapidly followed.  Within seconds she was nothing more than a statue, her face locked forever in a grimace of rage and horror.  As soon as the transformation was complete, the Caretaker slammed the box closed again and locked it.

Cassandra, her eyes still squeezed tightly shut, was left alive and whole, but she now found herself still in the stranglehold of the petrified Guardian, the steel blade of the knife still cutting into her neck.  It was difficult to breath, and she didn’t dare move for fear of causing the blade to cut more deeply into her neck.  She opened her eyes and looked for Jenkins.

“Jenkins!  Help me!  I can’t move and I can’t breathe!” she whispered hoarsely, her voice full of fear and mounting panic.

Instantly Jenkins was around the end of the table and in front of her, the others following closely behind him.  Without a second thought he seized the stone arm that was clutching the knife and pulled on it with all his formidable strength.  It snapped off at the elbow with a satisfying _crack_.  Next he broke off the fingers of the other hand that was still clutching Cassandra’s upper arm, freeing her completely of her would-be assassin. 

As soon as she was freed, Cassandra pulled away from what was left of Nicole Noone.  The Librarian whirled around to face the damaged statue, her blue eyes blazing with her pent-up anger.  Before anyone could stop her she pushed the statue backward, and when it struck the hard wooden flooring it shattered into hundreds of pieces, almost like glass. 

“You _bitch_!” she snarled, kicking chunks of the statue across the room in her fury, the stress of the last couple of days, especially the last few hours, finally breaking free.  She picked up a large piece of stone and hurled it across the workroom, nearly breaking the glass of the Back Door. 

“You made the Library kill Jenkins and I hate you!  _I hate you_!”  Jenkins, rattled by the unexpected display of raw emotion from the normally even-tempered woman, went to her and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Cassandra,” he murmured quietly, squeezing her.  She turned, looked up into his concerned brown eyes, then collapsed into his arms, clinging to him as she broke down completely and sobbed.  Jenkins held onto her tightly as she cried, bending his head to lay it against hers, one hand eventually moving up to stroke her back and hair soothingly.

“It’s all right, my love,” he whispered to her, his heart breaking for her and the horrible things she’d had to endure over the past few days.  “It’s all over now, my love; we’re safe.”

She pulled away just enough to lift her tear-stained face up to him.

“Are we really?” she sniffled, afraid to believe him.  Jenkins nodded with a small, reassuring smile.

“Yes,” he said, pulling back against his chest.  “With the statue shattered, Miss Noone can never be brought back.”

As he and the others comforted Cassandra and congratulated each other on being able to pull off their ruse, Jenkins hoped that the Librarians and their Guardian would simply assume that Nicole was dead now and not ask for any details.  Because he knew very well that Nicole Noone was _not_ dead, not technically.  She was an immortal, after all—she _could_ die, but she could not be killed, not even by a Gorgon.  She was actually in a kind of suspended animation, or rather, her _being_ was in a state of suspended animation, a state of perpetual unconsciousness—a tremendous mercy, in his opinion.  And she always would be, now, thanks to Cassandra’s impetuous outburst of anger.  Had anyone tried to use the restoration potion on those pieces, they would’ve reverted back to flesh and blood.  _Living_ flesh and blood, unable to die, leaving Miss Noone to suffer an eternity of physical torment and, eventually, complete madness.  The Caretaker shuddered physically at the idea.  As much as he disliked Miss Noone, he would not wish that fate on anyone.

He removed his arms from around Cassandra and stood back from her.  She was still sniffling, but she’d stopped crying now.  He gently tipped her face up and slightly aside so that he could examine the wound to her neck.  The injury wasn’t life-threatening, but it was still bleeding and deep enough to need attention.  Jenkins looked around as he addressed the group.

“With as much as we’ve accomplished so far, we still have a great deal of work to do, I’m afraid,” he said.  “The Equinox of Binding is still rapidly approaching.  I’ll tend to Cassandra’s injuries, and afterward she can assist me in preparing for the Tethering Ceremony while the rest of you go and retrieve Mr. Carsen.”  The Librarian instantly set her jaw and looked defiant.

“No!” she said fiercely.  “I’m going with Eve and the guys to get Flynn!  I’m a Librarian; that’s my job and I’m gonna do it!”  Jenkins couldn’t help be just as little proud of her courage and pluck.  Fortunately, Eve stepped in to back him up.

“No, Cassandra, do as Jenkins says,” she instructed.  “You’re still bleeding, and Jenkins’ll need help setting up for the ceremony.  We’ll have to tether the minute we get back to the Annex, we don’t have any time to spare, thanks to Nicole!”  Cassandra looked as though she was going to protest further, but said nothing in the end. 

Ezekiel, who had been busy on his phone all this time, looked up with a grin on his face.

“Got him!” he said.  He hurried over to show Eve and Jenkins the display.  “I hacked into the hospital’s computer system.  Nicole didn’t even bother to admit Flynn to the hospital under an alias.  I’ve got his room pin-pointed right here—if Jenkins can get us close enough, we can be in and out in a tick!”  The Guardian turned to Jenkins.

“You heard the man, Jenkins—fire up the Back Door!” she said, and he nodded curtly before striding quickly over to the globe housing the mechanism.  He set the coordinates to take the team as close to Flynn’s room as he could get them and activated the portal, the doors instantly swinging smoothly open on their hinges.  A small shiver ran up the Caretaker’s spine as he watched, remembering what had happened the _last_ time the doors had opened.  He shook his head, pushing the memory away.

“Good luck, Colonel, gentlemen,” he called out as the three passed through the door.  As soon as the doors were shut, he turned his attention to the remaining Librarian.

“Now!  Let’s see what we can do about that cut,” he said briskly, ushering Cassandra to the infirmary.

 

* * *

 

Jenkins took Cassandra to the Infirmary to clean her wound.  It wasn’t as bad a cut as he had feared; it didn’t even require stitches, much to their relief.  He unlocked a small wooden medicine cabinet and rummaged around in it until he found what he was looking for:  A small, red-glazed stoneware jar, its mouth covered by a heavily-waxed piece of muslin tied into place with a string.  It was a healing salve that the Caretaker had concocted a long time ago, composed of strong healing herbs, spells—and just a _soupçon_ of black lotus oil, a very powerful sedative that he hoped would soothe her frayed nerves.  He untied the string and carefully dabbed a tiny amount of the salve on her cut, just enough to cover its length.  It stopped bleeding at once.  He then gently taped a piece of gauze over it.  No sooner had he finished his work than he could tell that the lotus oil was already calming her.    

Jenkins checked her pulse and breathing.  Satisfied, he pronounced her ready for duty again.  The two of them then hurried to make things ready for the return of the others, stopping first in the Annex.  Jenkins took a moment and stared down at the pieces of stone that had once been a Guardian of the Library.  Cassandra slipped quietly to his side, staring at the mess of stone and dust with wide blue eyes.

“I’m sorry, Jenkins,” the Librarian murmured softly next to him.  “I...I don’t know why I pushed her over like that.  I didn’t mean to kill her, but I was just so... _angry_!  Everything that she did to us, the Library.  To _you_.”  Her voice began to shake as she spoke.  Jenkins turned and put his arms around her, blocking her view of the “corpse”.

“Of course you were angry,” he said kindly.  “We were all angry, myself included.”  He stroked the back of her head gently.

“And you didn’t kill her,” he lied.  “I did; the moment I broke her arm off, she died.  Those turned to stone by Medusa’s gaze must remain completely intact in order to have a hope of being restored.  She died the moment I broke her arm off in order to free you.”  Cassandra pushed herself away from him and looked up into his brown eyes, a small sigh of exasperation escaping her.

“You’re a _terrible_ liar,” she said flatly.  Jenkins opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off.

“After DOSA used Medusa’s head on you when they tried to take over the Library, I read everything I could get my hands on about it.  How it works, how to reverse its effects—everything.”  She pointed with her chin at the stones littering the floor. 

“I know she’s not dead.  And I know that her consciousness is trapped in some awful type of Limbo-like place, forever.”  Jenkins began to nervously run his hand over his chest as he struggled to come up with justification for his dishonesty.  In the end he decided to simply tell the truth this time.

“I only meant to spare you...” he began.  Cassandra reached her hand up and laid it against his cheek.

“I know,” she said, a small, sad smile coming to her lips.  “Thank you.”  Taking her hand in his, he turned to kiss her palm, then, with a deep sigh, he turned them both back to the shattered statue.  Jenkins shook his head slowly.

“Such a waste of talent and life!” he said.  “Perhaps I shouldn’t have been so surprised by her betrayal, though.  She had been Mr. Wilde’s Guardian for many years, perhaps he infected her somehow with his ideas about entitlement and how the Library ‘owed’ them something.” 

“Did you ever try to talk to her while she was imprisoned?” Cassandra asked, careful to keep any accusatory tone out of her voice.

“I tried on several occasions,” he answered.  “So did Judson.  But by the time I captured her, she was far too angry and embittered.  She wouldn’t even listen to anything anyone had to say.  After a while we gave up, left her to her own devices.” 

Jenkins paused for a moment, a look of regret and self-recrimination filling his eyes.  “Perhaps if I had _kept_ trying to talk to her, kept trying to connect with her in some way...”  Cassandra squeezed his arm.

“It wouldn’t have done any good,” she stated.  “She had five hundred years to think about it all, she could’ve given it all up at any time before you caught up with her.  She wanted revenge, period.  She wasn’t going to let you or anyone else talk her out of it.”  The Caretaker nodded in silent agreement, then pushed the useless self-accusations away. 

“We’ve dawdled here long enough.  I’ll stay here and clear this away,” he said, indicating the scattered fragments.  “Would you please be so kind as to go to the Library and begin setting things up for the Tethering Ceremony?  There’s a checklist with the ritual book, we’ll only need the first four items on it and a podium.  I’ll join you there as soon as I’m finished here."

“Okay,” Cassandra said, then stood suddenly on her toes to kiss his cheek unexpectedly.  Before he could respond, she had turned around and rushed from the room.

Jenkins brought a large cardboard box out of the broom closet and gently placed the pieces of stone into it, including all of the stone dust left behind after sweeping it up.  He sealed the box with heavy packing tape and then pushed it back to the cubby area behind his desk, out of sight.  Lastly, he covered it with an old drop cloth from the broom closet.  As her Librarian, Mr. Carsen should be the one to decide what to do with Miss Noone’s remains.

After putting everything in the Annex back into order, the Caretaker hurried to the Library to help Cassandra, but by the time he got there, there wasn’t much left for him to do except check over Cassandra’s work to make sure they had everything they would need.  He kept things to the bare minimum—a podium, the stole for the Magistrate of the Tethering, the book containing the Ritual of Binding, the massive Tethering Candle that represented the Spirit of the Library, and the two candles from the Chamber of Memories that represented the life spirits of Eve Baird and Flynn Carsen.  The exact moment of Tethering would happen when the Librarian and his Guardian simultaneously touched their candles’ flames to the thick wick of the Tethering Candle and lit it.  The book, the stole and the candles were the only items that were absolutely required for the ceremony, everything else—the robes, the crowns, the flowers, the music, the decorations—that was just window-dressing.  Unfortunately, they weren’t going to have time for any of that now.  It was a shame, Jenkins thought, especially since this was going to be only the second Tethering in the entire history of the Library, but it simply couldn’t be helped.

Jenkins went over and gingerly lifted the Horologe from its hook and popped it open.  Instantly, a breathtaking view of the heavens in real time appeared before his and Cassandra’s eyes.  He could see that the planets involved in signaling the Hour of Binding were nearly perfectly lined up now.  Jenkins estimated that they had less than fifteen minutes to find Mr. Carsen, return him to the Library, and perform the ceremony.  With a heavy heart, Jenkins snapped the Horologe shut and replaced it in its display. 

“That’s it, then,” he sighed heavily.  “There’s nothing more we can do here except to wait.  The rest is up to Colonel Baird and the others.”

 

* * *

 

Eve Baird, Ezekiel Jones and Jacob Stone stumbled out of the custodian’s closet and spilled into the immaculately-kept hallway of the high-security ward at Springfield Psychiatric Hospital.  The trio quickly glanced up and down the hallway to make sure their arrival had gone undetected.  Almost instantly, Jones spread his arms out and slammed the other two back against the beige-painted wall.  He nodded down the hallway to indicate a security camera turning to look right at them.

“That was _not_ included in the hospital schematics!” he hissed angrily.  Eve peered at the camera.

“What does that mean, Jones?” she asked shortly, her stomach filling with dread.  The thief snorted just as an alarm began to blare.

“It means we’ve got about 30 seconds to find Flynn and get him outta here before security finds us!”  He pulled away from the wall and turned left.

“Fortunately, you’ve got Ezekiel Jones on your side,” he said snippily, still unhappy with the surprise security camera.  He bolted down the corridor, shouting over his shoulder as he ran.  “This way!”

Baird and Stone followed without protest.  In the time Jones had spent online checking out the hospital’s layout and examining their admittance records, he’d been able to determine precisely where Flynn’s room was.  Fortunately, Jenkins had masterfully been able to get them into the hospital just a few doors down from Flynn’s location, so it only took a few seconds for the Australian to lead them to the correct room.  It took another ten seconds to disable the electronic door lock.  They swarmed into the dimly-lit room and slammed the door closed just as the agitated voices of security personnel and hospital staff could be heard from down the hallway.

“Stone, watch the door!” Eve barked as she rushed over to one of the two beds in the room.  There she found him, Flynn Carsen, eyes open and staring at nothing, tucked into his bed, his hands and feet held with restraints even though he didn’t move at all, not even to blink.

“Flynn!” she cried, shaking him roughly.  “Flynn, wake up!  _Wake up_!”  But the Librarian didn’t so much as flinch.  He seemed completely disconnected from his surroundings.  She looked up at Ezekiel.

“Now what?” she asked.  Jones merely shrugged and began to undo the restraints.  His job was breaking and entering, not spell-busting.

“I dunno.  Kiss him?” he offered helplessly.  “Works in the fairy tales.  True love’s kiss and all that muck?”

“That sounds _just_ crazy enough to work!” hissed Stone from his post at the door.  “Nicole said she used a magic potion of some kind on ‘im, maybe a magic solution is the only thing that’ll work?  Either way, kiss ‘im, quick!  Security’s headed this way!”

Eve turned back to Flynn.  She took a deep breath, then leaned over and kissed Flynn gently, feeling more than a little self-conscious.  She straightened up again and held her breath, waited for something to happen.  Long seconds ticked by with no results.  Then, just as she was about to give up, the Librarian’s eyes began to flutter, and he blinked rapidly several times as he slowly looked around in confusion.

“Flynn!” Eve exclaimed, tears of relief and joy coning to hers eyes.  “Flynn!  You’re back!”  A wide smile weakly broke out on his face as he recognized Eve.

“Hey you!” he said groggily, his voice thin.  “What’s going on?”  A memory suddenly flashed through his mind, and his face became worried.

“Nicole!  Where’s Nicole?” he said anxiously, struggling stiffly to sit up.  “Nicole did this!  She kidnapped me!  She hasn’t reformed at all, she’s out to destroy the Library!  Jenkins!  She wants to kill Jenkins!  We have to stop her...!”  Eve grasped him by the shoulders.

“We know!” she interrupted.  “We know all about Nicole, she admitted everything!”  Baird let go of Carsen and held her hand out to him.

“But we don’t have time to go into it all right now!  We have to get back to the Library so we can tether, and we’re running out of time!”  Flynn grabbed her hand and she helped him out of bed.  Still groggy from the effects of the potion, he stood on wobbly legs, struggling to keep his balance, his knees threatening to buckle any second.  Ezekiel ran over and helped Eve walk him towards the door.  Flynn did a double-take, his eyes going wide and filling with dismay.

“What happened to your hair?” he asked in a bewildered tone.  Jones merely rolled his eyes as put the Librarian’s arm over his shoulders.

“It’s a _long_ story, mate,” he mumbled.  Just as Jake hurried over to help as well, the door burst open.  Four security guards, each armed with a black, police-style baton, glared at them from the doorway.

“Put your hands on your heads, all of you!  _Now_!” yelled the guard in the front as he quickly exchanged his baton for a taser.  He pointed the weapon at the intruders.  Jake and Eve exchanged glances, and Stone quickly placed himself in front of the others, the business end of the taser pointing squarely at the Librarian’s chest.  Stone looked back at the guard, staring him right in the eyes.

“Sorry, bubba,” Jake growled.  “Nuthin’ personal, but we just ain’t got time for this shit…” 

 

* * *

 

Jenkins had nearly worn a furrow into the Annex’s wooden flooring with his anxious pacing.  Cassandra thought about going to make some tea for him, hoping that might calm him down a little bit, but then she had the thought that, if Eve and the boys _didn’t_ return in time with Flynn, and the Library became insane again and somehow managed to kill them all again, she wanted to be with Jenkins when it happened.

The Librarian jumped when the Back Door mechanism sprang to life.  She scrambled up from her chair and rushed to stand next to Jenkins, both of them impatiently waiting for the doors to open.  After what seemed like an eternity, the double-doors finally parted, and four familiar individuals tumbled through the portal.

“ _You did it_!” shrieked Cassandra excitedly, jumping up and down.  She could literally feel the tension in Jenkins’s body melt away.  As she got a better look at the arrivals, however, her expression went from one of joy to one of perplexity.  Eve, Jake and Ezekiel were in varying states of dishevelment.  Jake’s and Eve’s clothes were torn in some places, Eve’s hair was a complete mess.  Her left cheek was puffy and red.  Jake looked like he had received what promised to be a prize-winning black eye, and his knuckles were torn and bleeding.  Flynn, leaning heavily on Ezekiel, was wearing nothing except an open-backed hospital gown, barely able to stand up on his own.

“Oh, my God, Eve!” gasped Cassandra.  “What happened!?” 

“Irrelevant!” snapped Jenkins before Baird could answer.  “Our time is almost up!  We _must_ perform the ceremony _now_!”  He stepped forward and picked Flynn up, slinging the Librarian over his shoulder as he turned and rushed toward the Library.  “Colonel Baird, Librarians—this way, _please_...!” 

The ragtag group followed in his wake to the Library.  Jenkins did his best to ignore Flynn’s bare buttocks, now mere inches from his face.  With an energy that would be unthinkable in a man of his apparent age, Jenkins sprang from the elevator the moment the doors opened and down the marble steps.  Eve was right behind him, and as soon as he reached the podium, the Caretaker bent over and dropped Flynn’s bare feet to the floor.  Eve and Ezekiel were right there to take the unstable Librarian, each of them slinging one of Carsen’s arms around their own shoulders to hold him up.  Cassandra, standing behind them, suddenly noticed the view of Carsen’s backside with a squeak of horror.  She nudged Jacob and indicated with a sharp nod the unsettling sight.  Smirking despite the seriousness of the situation, Jacob quickly stripped off what was left of his flannel shirt and tied it around Carsen’s waist.  _Can’t have the man tethering with his ass hangin’ out_ , he thought with no little amusement.

Jenkins quickly donned the Magistrate’s stole and opened the ritual book.  He looked around at the less than impressive gathering, then took a deep breath

“Librarians, Artifacts; we are gathered here today to witness the eternal union of Flynn Carsen and Eve Baird!  Today they take a sacred vow that has been passed down through the centuries...”  The Caretaker plowed through the words of the tethering ceremony as quickly as he could while still trying to maintain at least a modicum of decorum.  He had to help Flynn and Eve with their parts of the ceremony, especially the discombobulated Flynn, which slowed things up considerably—if only they had taken the rehearsals more seriously!  But there was no point in dwelling on that now.  They were almost done...

Jenkins opened his mouth to pronounce the final words of the tethering.  Suddenly, the deafening bells of the Horologe began to ring, signaling that the Equinox had arrived.  The Hour of Binding was here, and it would be gone in a matter of seconds. 

“Take up your candles from the Chamber of Memories!” he shouted, trying to make himself heard above the din of the bells.  “And touch your flames to the wick of the Tethering Candle, _quickly_!”  Eve seized her candle, while Ezekiel placed Flynn’s in the Librarian’s hand, wrapping Carsen’s slack fingers around it, then clutched his own fingers around Flynn’s hand to hold it in place for him.  Together, Baird and Jones reached up to touch the two burning candles to the fat wick of the Tethering Candle, setting it instantly ablaze.

“By the authority bestowed upon me by the most ancient and venerable Library of Alexandria and in the names all of its Librarians and Guardians past”, Jenkins bellowed over the racket.  “I do hereby acknowledge and declare you, Librarian Flynn Carsen and you, Guardian Eve Baird, to be tethered to the Library, now and for the rest of your immortal lives!”

The thundering bells fell instantly silent.  A shimmering golden light fell over Flynn and Eve, dim at first, then growing brighter until it was nearly blinding.  In a matter of just a few moments, the light was gone, and complete silence fell over the Library.  Everyone looked at each other warily, all eyes eventually turning to Jenkins.  He smiled.

“It is done,” he announced, his broad shoulders dropping with relief.

“It’s _all_ over—we’ve won!”

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, after the impromptu “tethering party” that they had thrown together for Flynn and Eve to celebrate their joining to the Library once and for all, Jenkins was busy making up a guest room for Cassandra.  Eve and Flynn had gone to spend the night at her apartment, though most likely Mr. Carsen would be spending most of it sleeping off the last of the potion’s effects.  Mr. Jones and Mr. Stone left soon after the happy couple, planning to “go grab a coupla brews”, as Mr. Stone had put it, before heading back to their apartment for the night.  Which left Cassandra and Jenkins.

Jenkins suddenly did not want her to leave, and used the excuse of Cassandra’s injured neck to talk her into staying the night—the injury should be watched closely over the next couple of days, he protested—just to be on the safe side.  Though, in truth, he didn’t have to do very much convincing at all.  She was utterly exhausted, but she was also eager to stay in the Annex just to be with her beloved, even if just to talk.  All she wanted was to be with him.

He quickly offered her the permanent ownership and use of a small “guest bedroom” (actually it was a good-sized office space that he quickly converted into a bedroom just for her) not far from his own suite of rooms, with the standing invitation to stay overnight in the Annex anytime she wished.  Cassandra had beamed with delight as she accepted his offer.

Jenkins, even though his immortality was now restored, was feeling tired by now himself, but happy, as he finished making up the twin-sized bed and then moved around the room gathering up the sheets that were covering the other furnishings of the little bedroom.  As he worked to get everything in order, he realized that he was very happy, _truly_ happy—the happiest he been in his entire life, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with the newly-tethered Librarian and Guardian.  It didn’t even have anything to do with the Library.

“Mr. Jenkins?”  A smile bloomed on his face as he turned around to face Cassandra.

“I think it’s safe to say that we can dispense with titles from here on out, don’t you agree?” he asked warmly, and the Librarian blushed as she grinned.

“Yeah, I guess we can,” she agreed.  A startled look came to her face.  “Oh!  I almost forgot…!”  She stuck her hand into the pocket of her short yellow skirt and pulled out a brightly-colored piece of silk. 

“I wanted to give this back to you!”  She held out the cloth to him, and he recognized it instantly.

“My pocket square!” he exclaimed, a look of relief coming to his face as he gratefully took the silk from her.  “I was afraid that I had lost it for good in all of the commotion and excitement!”

“I found it in your pants pocket, when I was…when you were…”  Her face clouded over with sadness and she dropped her gaze for a moment, unable to say the awful words aloud even now that she knew he was safe and immortal again.  She looked up and watched as he carefully folded the cloth and placed it into his breast pocket.  “Have you been carrying that every day?  For the last four years?”

“Of course,” he replied, his tone perplexed.

“Really?” she asked, just as confused.  “Why?”

“Because it was a gift from you,” he said simply.  Seeing her doubtful look, he went on to explain.

“You may not realize this, Cassandra, but when you came to me in the lab that first Christmas Eve, it was the first time in a very long time that anyone had given me a gift of any kind.  It was the first time in a long time, in fact, that anyone had paid me any notice at all.”  He nervously ran his hand over his chest, smoothing his coat as he spoke.

“Of course, that’s partly _my_ fault, isolating myself here in the Annex and everything, but…”  Jenkins paused for a moment, then smiled gently as he remembered that long-ago evening.

“You were very kind to me, you cared about me and…it felt… _good_.  I kept the square with me because every time I looked at it or touched it, it reminded me of that night, and of your kindness and how good it felt.”  He dropped his gaze and began to fiddle with the cuffs of his shirt.

“I even began to dare to hope that…”  He stopped suddenly and looked down at the floor, his cheeks turning pale pink.

“To hope for what?” Cassandra asked quietly, reaching out to take one large fidgeting hand in both of hers.  Jenkins chuckled quietly and raised his head.

“To hope that you and I… _we_ …might be…together.  _Some_ day.”  He stumbled over the words.  “Of course, there was my vow to Charlene to consider, so I was afraid to…”  The Librarian raised a hand and placed it over his lips.

“That was _then_.  What do we do _now_?” she asked, gazing steadily up into his warm brown eyes.  Without warning, the immortal bent over and kissed her, softly, his lips just brushing hers, sending an intoxicating, electric thrill through both of their bodies. 

“I’ve been given the greatest gift any man can hope to receive,” he murmured, nuzzling her temple.  “I _know_ , now, that you love me; it was your love that _literally_ brought me back from death!”  He pulled his head back and looked deeply into her eyes.

“As I was dying, my last thought was one of regret, that you and I were being parted so soon after finding one another.  My last wish was that we could have more time together—and now we have it!  I’ve been given a second chance, and I intend to take full advantage of it!”

He dropped his head and kissed her a second time, deeply, slowly this time, his hands finding their way to rest lightly against each side of her perfect face.  As they broke apart, he felt a familiar ache in his groin.  Part of him wanted to act on that feeling, tonight, right now—but he pushed it away.  It was still too soon for that.  He was a knight of the Round Table after all; where ladies were concerned, there was a proper order to these sorts of things.  And Cassandra was definitely a lady.  _His_ lady.  The thought made him dizzy with joy. 

“I think we should begin with dinner, if you’re amenable,” he declared.  “Tomorrow night.  Anywhere you like!”  Cassandra broke into a beaming smile.

“You mean, like a date?” she asked, teasing him.  His smile echoed hers.

“Not like; actually,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss her yet again.  He suddenly never wanted to stop kissing her, or holding her, or touching her.  In fact, he never wanted to be separated from her again, and he could tell by her response to his kisses that she felt exactly the same way.  Fate, for once, had had pity on the lonely, unfortunate man.  It had been a truly harrowing experience, but the trials he had just personally undergone had served to burn away all of the foolish self-doubts and fearfulness that had accumulated over centuries of betrayal and hurt, and in their place Fate had finally given him a precious treasure beyond all price. 

It had finally given him his beautiful Cassandra.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is it for now, but I'm sure I'll see other opportunities for Casskins in future rewatchings of the show, so even though I'm marking this one "complete" for now, I may add more chapters in the future.


End file.
